


In Our Nature

by Ravunn



Series: In Our Nature series [2]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, F/M, Original Character(s), Slow Build, Slow Burn, Takes forever to get started
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 13:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 129
Words: 162,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20973518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravunn/pseuds/Ravunn
Summary: Being one of the first Darkspear trolls to learn druidism can be pretty tough. Zami is among these first Darkspear druids, whether he wants to be or not. Though the Cenarion Circle agreed to let these new troll druids join their ranks to learn the art, not everyone is so open to the idea. But maybe, with time, these prejudices can be overcome. After all, change is in our nature.





	1. In The Jungle

**Author's Note:**

> In addition to the usual copyright notice that Blizzard owns (World of) Warcraft, I’d like to specify a few matters regarding the setting, as I’m writing this during BfA. This story takes place Year 28 (Cataclysm), shortly after Deathwing’s return and the Shattering has already occurred. Garrosh Hellscream is the current Warchief of the Horde, and the Alliance is still led by Varian Wrynn.

Zami crouched down next to his firepit, extending his blue hand towards the flames. He nudged the small bowl of possibly-boiling water by the fireside, feeling the heat against his skin. Hissing quietly, he noted that it was, in fact, boiling and opened the pack at his side. Pulling out a wrapped stack of meat he’d cut from the tigers he’d dealt with earlier that day, he brought it to his nose and took a whiff. The heat and time were neither friends of his dinner but he figured it was probably still fresh enough to eat, and tossed it into the boiling pot. Across on the other side of the fire, his large turquoise raptor gurgled at the scent of the meat.

“Yeah yeah, don’tcha worry, Aka,” Zami muttered, pulling the leftover tiger bones from his bag and tossing them to the raptor, “I saved you da bones, I know dey be ya favorite, girl.”

As the raptor happily set about chewing on the gristle, Zami leaned back on his haunches and looked up at the dusky blue sky above. His vision of the stars was framed by the thick green foliage of the Stranglethorn jungle. As Zami looked up at the sky, he could only think about how dark blue Stranglethorn’s sky was, just like the crystal clear ocean below it. He missed the red sands and red skies of Durotar. It’d been too long since he’d been home. He wondered how things had changed since the cataclysm, and if Zuka still made those boar steaks with the cactus apple glaze.

A sudden rustling in the bushes made Zami’s ears twitch and his hand ghosted to the dagger at his hip. Even his raptor lifted her head curiously, her razor sharp teeth still clutching a tiger bone. Zami held his breath and strained to hear the faint growl of a jungle cat. He only had a moment to clutch the hilt of his dagger before the cat pounced at him from the bushes. 

He was ready for the pather’s strike, but his crouched position left him off-balance and he fell back into the grass. He heard Aka’s panicked hiss in the background, but all he could do was stare into the panther’s paw as it swept down across his face. Then the vision in his right eye faltered and at once turned to darkness. The panther roared into his face, almost mockingly, and its yellowed fangs were nearly upon him when Zami pushed his dagger up through the panther’s jaw, snapping its mouth shut with the force of the blow.

With a weak roar, the panther’s body went limp and its eyes went dull. Sitting up and pushing the panther aside, Zami brought a hand quickly to his eye, wincing from the deep cuts on his cheek. As he grimly realized his eyeball had been raked open with the panther’s claws, he felt Aka’s head nudge his shoulder anxiously. She looked up at him with concern in her intelligent eyes, clearly worried for her master. Zami brought his hands away from his face and clutched the raptor’s jaw, rubbing his thumb across her nose.

“Dere dere, girl. Dis? Dis just a scratch. Dat cat ain’t gonna be da one ta take me down,” He said reassuringly, “But I am a little bit worried about dis eye. It’ll regenerate, but...well, Grom’gol should be pretty near here. Let’s pack up and pay dem a visit, huh?”

After quickly packing up his camp, which was a little difficult to do with only one eye working, Zami mounted his raptor and headed a short ways east. Sure enough, the orc camp was there. He’d been in Stranglethorn long enough to recognize his surroundings, Zami realized bitterly as he entered the camp.

“Ey, Zami, mon,” Nimboya blinked as Zami dismounted his raptor, “What happened to ya eye dere?”

“It’ll regenerate,” Zami shrugged, approaching the other troll.

“I dunno, mon,” Nimboya stared directly towards his unworking eye socket, “Shouldn’t it have healed by now?”

Zami hesitated for a moment before shrugging dismissively, “Maybe I just need to sleep it off.”

Thulbek didn’t ask about Zami’s eye as he entered the inn. He and the orc had developed an unspoken agreement about such things over the years, and Zami liked it that way. As he settled down in an empty bed, he removed the waterskin from his pack and pulled out one of the linen cloths he’d picked off of the bodies of the Bloodscalps he’d had a run in with earlier. Carefully, he began to clean the wound. He gave a satisfied hum as he felt the wound was more closed than last time. Nimboya was right that it was taking its time, which was a bit odd, but it did seem to be regenerating. 

It wasn’t usual for a wound to heal so slowly, but Zami mused that it was just a part of getting old. He was already over thirty years old, and that was middle-aged for a troll. He probably wouldn’t make it to a ripe old age of seventy, but few trolls did. In fact, he was lucky to have even made it this far. He supposed his upbringing had something to do with it.

Zami’s was the eldest son of a skilled hunter named Jumi, who was renowned for his sway over the beasts of the land. He remembered being told that his father could tame any creature he set his mind to, and he remembered being told that he was expected to be just the same. It was true, he supposed, that he had a way with animals. Perhaps he could’ve made a good hunter, if his skill with the bow wasn’t so poor. He couldn’t even hit a stationary target, let alone a moving opponent. His attempts with the bow were so embarrassing that none of the hunter trainers around the village wanted anything to do with him, and so he’d had to watch his four younger brothers become master hunters. Meanwhile, he was stuck working as a skinner and trapper, sewing leather armor from the skins. Women’s work, Zami thought grumpily.

Though he was a poor marksman, Zami was a skilled at hunting in other ways. He was quick and clever, agile and stealthy. As a young man, he’d attracted the attention of the more unsavory sorts of the village. They brought him under their wing, playing on his sense of isolation. They taught him the ways of the shadow and how to strike with precision. It was much easier to hit the mark up close with a dagger than with a bow and arrow, he thought. 

Having little use for such cloak and dagger activities in little old Sen’jin Village, Zami had ended up falling in with the Steamwheedle Cartel to help with their debt collection. He worked as a legbreaker for the goblins for a few years, but it was unsatisfying work. He finally retired from working for the Cartel after a particularly nasty job in Booty Bay. As a parting gift, the goblins had left him with a rumor. A rumor that had kept him stuck in this jungle for so long. A rumor about his father.

When he was young, his father had left Dutotar for the allure of taming the beasts of the Stranglethorn jungles. He had wanted nothing more than to tame the native raptors. So one day he just up and left his wife and their six children, and then never returned. Maybe he’d died, gotten eaten by the beasts he tried to control. Zami wouldn’t have minded if he had. But the rumors had said otherwise, and so long as Jumi was alive, then Zami wanted nothing more than to do the raptors’ job for them.


	2. Journey Home

Zami awoke early in the morning, just after sunrise. He’d had a fitful sleep and awoke feeling even more tired than the night before. His eye still wasn’t healed, he noted bitterly, as he sat up. He looked over and noticed Thulbek was already at his usual position. Zami wondered how the guy did it. It was like he never slept or something. Yawning, he rose to his feet and began to make for the exit.

“Oh, Zami,” Thulbek spoke up quickly, “I didn’t notice you were awake. I have something for you.”

Zami paused, turning back with a perked brow.

“Somethin’ for me?” He asked as he made his way over to the innkeeper.

“A letter,” Thulbek nodded, “The goblins brought the mail on the airship earlier this morning. Suppose it must be from Kalimdor.”

Thulbek handed the letter out and Zami took it from the orc. He eyed the envelope curiously before opening it. To his surprise, he recognized his sister’s hand quickly:

__

_Dear Zami,_  
_I hope this letter finds you well._  
_Something terrible has happened. I cannot tell you in this letter. You should see it for yourself._  
_Please return home as soon as you can._  
_Your sister, Zuka_

Zami raised his eyebrows. His sister’s Orcish had gotten better over the years, he noted. He wondered what could be so important that she’d ask him to come home now, after all these years without writing. She hadn’t even reached out to him when the cataclysm occurred and that was, well, the cataclysm! Whatever this was, she probably felt it was pretty important.

“Well?” Thulbek asked suddenly.

Zami was drawn from his thoughts. He glanced past his arm, seeing the orc peeking over at the letter. So nosy, Zami thought in annoyance as he folded the letter over.

“Are you going to return home then?” Thulbek asked bluntly.

Zami made an expression of exasperation, seeing the orc wasn’t even trying to hide his snooping. After a moment, he shook his head.

“Maybe, I dunno yet,” He said slowly, as though he hadn’t already decided.

“You should go,” Thulbek said with a nod, “Stranglethorn and its beasts will always be here. Family will not.”

The orc returned to his post after this cryptic comment, leaving Zami to briefly wonder if there was a story there. Not that it was any of his business, he quickly reminded himself, and dismissed the thought.

“Ah well, I suppose ya right,” Zami nodded, “Ya know when the next zeppelin ta Durotar be headin’ in?”

“Shouldn’t be too long, probably just a few minutes,” Thulbek said as he pointed up the stairs beside him, “You can head on up to the platform to wait.”

When Zami reached the top of the building, where a lone goblin stood waiting at the zeppelin platform, he looked out over the ocean. The sun was just rising over the ocean and it shone a golden light that sparkled across the water. It brought back memories of sitting along the banks of Sen’jin Village with his younger brothers, looking out the water to the Echo Isles. Zami used to tell them that if they didn’t listen to their mother, he’d drag them over to the Echo Isles and let Zalazane have them. That usually got them to do their chores. Zami chuckled at the memory, when the sound of a sputtering engine came into earshot. His tall blue ears twitched and he looked up in the direction of the noise.

The zeppelin was just coming into view on the horizon, but it sure was a noisy thing even from the distance. Zami wasn’t looking forward to going deaf on the flight back to Durotar. He’d always hated flying. Sure, it was quicker than going by sea, but it always confused him how those goblin contraptions managed to even get off the ground. Engineering, mechanics, and things like that were confusing to him. It might as well have been magic. Although he didn’t put much stock in magic, either, when it came down to it.

As the zeppelin pulled up to the platform, Zami stepped onto the ship. A little purple-haired goblin woman approached him, looking rather tired.

“Welcome aboard the Iron Eagle,” She announced flatly, looking up at him with that same unflinching expression.

Zami nodded back, recognizing all too well the look of someone uninvested in their job, and uneasily headed below deck. He took a seat by the edge of the main room, instantly feeling leagues better by not being able to see how high they were off the ground. It was better to just not know, he figured. Even so, it was kind of a shame. He glanced quickly one last time out the doorway, to the rising sun. Then the airship made a choking sort of noise and lurched forward. Before he even realized it, Zami found himself gripping tightly to the doorway, his face pale.

“Oh,” He shook his head and scooted back into the room, “Dis is gonna be a long trip…”

And it was.

Though it had taken weeks by sea to travel from Rachet to Booty Bay, it had only taken a few hours for the zeppelin to arrive in Orgrimmar. As he stumbled off the ship and onto the zeppelin platform, Zami felt a bit woozy. Maybe it was from being in the air so long, or maybe it was the closed in feeling of Orgrimmar. He’d never liked being in big cities like this. There were too many sights, too many sounds, and too many smells. It all made his head spin. That made getting down the stairwell of the tower a bit of a chore, but it was worth it.

As soon as his feet touched the rough red stone of Durotar, Zami finally felt at peace. Nevermind the zeppelin, and nevermind the city. At last, he it was somewhere familiar. Making his way down the elevator and out of the city was easy, and he never lost his way once. Despite the years away, it was all still just as familiar as though he’d walked the streets yesterday. 

The trek across the length of Durotar took a bit longer than he remembered. Maybe he was getting slow in his old age, or maybe he was just taking his time out of nostalgia. Things had definitely changed since the cataclysm. It was probably most notable as he stopped in Razor Hill for lunch. The quilboar had been flooded out from their home to the north, and the Southfury River had filled the entirety of Thunder Ridge. Seeing all of the changes made Zami nervous what had become of Sen’jin Village, but he knew better than to ask.

After a relatively brief rest at the Razor Hill inn, Zami continued to south. He noted that the Kul Tirans seemed to be making their expanded presence known in Tiragarde as he passed by on the main road. He hoped Sen’jin Village hadn’t met a similar fate, but only time would tell. Finally, after a long day’s trek, Zami at last came upon the fork in the road. He knew that the east path would lead to the Valley of Trials, and the west path would lead to home.


	3. Home Again

The sun was setting over the ocean, painting Sen’jin Village in a golden hue. In many ways, it was exactly the same as he remembered. Not much had changed, Zami noted. Not much except the Echo Isles. There were bridges and buildings visible from the distance. At first, he was concerned that Zalazane and his hexed trolls had grown in number, enough to establish their own village. But judging by the mundane nature of life around him, perhaps that was not the case.

There would be time for that later, Zami thought, and strode to the hut in which his family had lived. Little had changed here too, he thought, looking at the wooden masks hitched upon the wall, resting on either side of an ornate tapestry of gold and blue. A faint smile flashed his lips, recognizing it instantly. It was the very same tapestry he had watched his mother make when he was young. It took her years to make it, but it had lasted all these years too.

As Zami extended a hand towards the tapestry, he caught the sound of a faint scuffling. His ears twitched as he paused to listen, holding his breath silently. He could hear faint whispers. As his hand moved to the dagger at his side, the floorboards behind him creaked. Zami spun around and was met with the sight of a child. It was a young girl with vibrant blue hair and teal skin, the same as Zami himself. She was the spitting image of his sister. If he hadn’t known better, he would’ve believed it was her. The sunlight sparkled at the edge of the vision in his working eye and he glanced down. That was when he noticed the spear in the young girl’s hands. It was pointed at him, the silver spearhead nearly pressed against his belly.

“Easy,” Zami began, raising his hand away from his dagger, “I don’t want no trouble,”

“Dat so, mon?” The girl began, narrowing her eyes, “Den why you be breakin’ into my house?”

Zami paused for a moment, brows raising curiously. It couldn’t be...could it?

“What’cha mean your house?” He asked cautiously, “Dis house belongs to my sista Zuka.”

Zami could see the confusion wash over the girl’s face, though she tried to hide it.

“You ain’t mama’s brudda,” She shook her head, “I know mama’s brudda.”

So it was as Zami had figured. This girl must be Zuka’s daughter; his niece.

“Ya mama’s got five bruddas, girl,” Zami leaned back away from the spear, “And I’m one of dem.”

Just as the girl went to speak, someone entered the house. Both Zami and the girl looked over to the open doorway.

“Mama!” The girl called and ran to her side.

Zuka now wore her dark blue hair in thick braids over her shoulders, and her face was a bit wrinkled around her lips, but it was definitely her. Zuka set a hand on the girl’s head, patting it soothingly.

“Shh, it’s alright, Juba,” Zuka said reassuringly, taking the spear from her.

“But mama! Dis bad man broke into our house!” The girl, Juba, said quickly while giving Zami a suspicious side-eye.

“How do ya even break into ya own house?” Zami asked flatly, leaning back against the wall.

“Dis ain’t ya hou--!”

Zuka rapped her hand against the side of Juba’s mouth, cutting her words short in her mouth. The girl looked up at her mother with confused eyes.

“Don’t be raisin’ ya voice at ya elders, Juba,” Zuka scolded, “Especially not ya family.”

Juba only looked more lost and sent Zami a confused glance.

“Dis is ya uncle Zami,” Zuka explained, gesturing to Zami, “He’s my older brother.”

It took Juba awhile to understand the situation fully. She had a lot of questions, and Zami found Zuka’s part-way answers frustrating. He wanted to know the reason why Zuka had never mentioned him, too. But the answer she’d given Juba, that it simply had never come up, was suspicious.

“Oh, Zami,” Zuka turned to him suddenly, “I nearly forgot. Come wit me.”

Zuka began to ascend the stairs to the second story of the house, not waiting to see if he’d follow. Though he perked a brow in curiosity, Zami began to cautiously follow. He glanced back at Juba, who was now innocently playing with a little ragdoll, before following Zuka up the stairs.

Zuka led Zami to a bedroom, gesturing inside. Zami stepped inside, and looked over at the the disheveled bedroll in the corner.

“Dis room for me?” He perked brow, “What, you couldn’t even clean up da place a little?”

Zuka stuck her head in past him, her face at once snapping into a scowl.

“What! Where is dat fool?!” She growled, “He knows he ain’t supposed to be walkin’ round on his own!”

Zami blinked.

“Who’s not?” He asked, as Zuka grumpily strode over to the master bedroom like she was on a mission.

Zami decided it was best not to follow her when she was like that and watched from the hallway instead. She swatted past the hanging beads in the doorway, and disappeared from view for a moment. Then he heard the distinct sound of a blow landing, followed by a man’s confused murmuring.

“Wha...huh? Who? Zuka?” The man mumbled tiredly.

“Jul, ya tired fool! You fell asleep!” Zuka growled, and there was the sound of another blow landing, “Ya bonehead!”

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Jul said quickly, but his apology couldn’t spare him another of Zuka’s smacks.

Zami winced, rubbing his neck awkwardly. As Zuka and this man, Jul, began to bicker, Zami decided to look out the window. The sun was sinking low now, the last vestiges of the golden sunset fading quickly. The stars were visible high above, and Zami felt a faint smile play at his lips as he eyed the reddish sky.

Suddenly, there was a clatter from downstairs that drew Zami’s attention back. It could’ve been Juba, he supposed, but something about it just didn’t sound like a child playing. Putting his hand at the dagger on his hip, Zami began to descend the stairs. His footfalls were silent, and he already knew every creaky spot on the steps to avoid. When he reached the end of the stairs, he looked down and saw Juba sitting in the same place as before. She was still playing with her ragdoll, just like before.

Perking a brow, Zami approached her and looked down. In response, she looked up.

“What’cha want, big nose?” She asked with narrowed eyes.

“No need to be such a little brat,” He said teasingly before crouching down beside her, “Did ya hear somethin’ just now?”

“No,” Juba shook her head.

“Hm,” Zami narrowed his eyes, glancing around the room.

Everything was in place. Maybe it’d been his imagination afterall. Slowly, he looked back to Juba. She just blinked up at him.

“Ya know, I’m curious,” He began, resting his hands on his knees as he crouched next to her.

Juba cocked her head to the side, her little blue braids falling over her shoulder.

“You held dat spear pretty well,” He continued before shrugging a little, “For a little girl.”

Juba scoffed and looked back down at her doll, going back to playing. Though she was clearly trying to dismiss him, Zami decided to keep talking.

“Did ya fa’da teach you?”

“No,” Juba didn’t look up, “Uncle Zalu taught me.”


	4. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Family drama. Poor Zami.

Zami snorted incredulously.

“What’cha mean? Zalu? Dat fool don’t know how to use a spear,” Zami chuckled, “He barely can even use his own bow.”

“Can’t at all, actually.”

Zami glanced up, into the open doorway. He hadn’t noticed it before, but a long wooden stick was lying in front of the walkway, on the porch just outside the door. Squinting suspiciously, he stepped past Juba and approached the doorway. He leaned outside and sure enough, it was his little brother. He was sitting on the porch with his legs dangling over the side. Zami glanced at the wooden stick, noting it was blunt on both ends, and then back at Zalu.

“Since when do you use a staff?” He asked, stooping to pick up the stick for further examination.

“Gimme dat!” Zalu growled, quickly snatching it away.

In a seamless gesture, he also thwacked Zami on the head with the stick, then pulled it closer to himself. Zami stood back up, leaning away to rub his head where he’d been struck. Why his family was always so keen on knocking each other around, he would never know.

“Take it easy, mon,” Zami grumbled, “I ain’t gonna take ya stupid stick.”

“Good,” Zalu grunted, holding the stick closer, “Cause I need dis stupid stick.”

Zami quirked an eyebrow in confusion. Zalu registered the look on his brother’s face and sighed, leaning back a bit. He scooted himself back a bit, leaning the stick onto the porch, and began to pull himself up with it. At first, Zami was going to make a joke about how he looked like an elder doing that. But then he saw the reason why.

“Hey, Zalu?” Zami cleared his throat, glancing down, “Where, uh...where’s ya leg at?”

“In da belly of some bear in da Western Plaguelands,” Zalu answered flatly, speaking in a cold and detached way.

“You and Zuka ain’t messin’ wit me?” Zami asked as he crouched down, swatting his hand in the blank space where Zalu’s leg should’ve been, “Dis ain’t like when Zeni lost his arm?”

He just wanted to make sure it wasn’t some kind of trick to make him look stupid. His little siblings had always pulled these kinds of stunts when they were younger, usually to get him in trouble with their mother. They’d once convinced him that their brother Zeni had gotten his right arm pinched off by the surf crawlers south of the village, although they’d just hid his arm inside of his tunic. He just wanted to be sure it wasn’t like that again.

“Well? Ya satisfied?” Zalu asked bitterly after Zami’s hand met with nothing but air.

“Yeah, okay,” Zami sighed, standing up, “So what did ya do?”

“I told ya, dis huge bear in the Western Plaguelands. Snuck up, ripped da leg right offa me.”

“How does a huge bear sneak?”

“Da same way you do, with dat huge nose,” Zalu scoffed, reaching out with his free hand and thwacking his hand against Zami’s nose.

“Now I know where Juba learned my nickname,” Zami grumbled.

“Oh!” Zuka said as she approached from the doorway, “So ya already seen him, den…”

She then turned to Zalu, a fierce scowl forming.

“What in da name of da Loa are you doin’ outta bed?” She asked angrily, “You can’t be goin’ off on ya own anymore, Zalu!”

“What, so I gotta just sit dere and listen to you an’ dat fat slob fightin’ all da time?” Zalu huffed back, looking away.

“Dat fat slob is my husband, ya bonehead!”

Zami leaned away awkwardly, knowing this was just going to go downhill very fast. His family was full of passionate people. And their primary passion was fighting with each other.

“Yet he not da fa’da of ya daughta,” Zalu quipped mockingly, earning him one of Zuka’s famous smacks on the head.

“What’cha say, mon?! I’ll take dat cane from ya! Let ya fall on ya ungrateful face!” She growled, smacking her little brother repeatedly, “We take ya in! We feed ya! We help ya get back on ya feet, and ya can’t even be grateful for da help!”

“Back on my feet?” Zalu scoffed incredulously, looking at Zami, “Ya hear dis? She gotta be jokin’ wit me!”

Zami held up his hands defensively, wanting make it clear he wasn’t taking sides. He didn’t want to be involved in this kind of drama, yet he was home five minutes and here it was already. Part of him almost missed the calm solitude of Stranglethorn.

As Zuka and Zalu continued to fight and shout at each other, various smacks on the head trading between both sides, Zami glanced over through the doorway. Juba was still sitting on the floor with her little ragdoll, staring up at the scene. Her lips were caught in a frown and her eyes looked tired, like she was way too used to seeing these kinds of situations. That pained Zami. He remembered all too well the sight of his mother and her second husband shouting each other down, just the same way. 

He supposed it was just nature for people to act like their parents. That was just how it was. That’s why everyone expected him to be just like his father, too. But he wasn’t like his father, and he wasn’t like his mother, and he found the whole thing annoying. How were things supposed to get any better if they were just the same generation after generation? Seemed like a bit of a raw deal to him.

“Ey, ya two idiots,” Zami interrupted, disentangling them from each other by stepping between, “You got an audience, ya know.”

Zuka and Zalu glanced over at Juba. While Zuka’s expression became sad, Zalu only got angrier. He seemed to be a lot angrier than he used to be. Understandable why.

“Yeah, Zuka, ya really okay wit Juba seein’ her ma’da get beat by a man wit one leg?”

“Ohh, ya gonna be beatin’ me now?” Zuka put a hand on her hip while the other reached for Zalu’s cane, “I wanna see ya try, little brudda.”

“Nobody’s tryin’ nothing,” Zami interrupted, a bit more forcefully this time, “You two actin’ like children. Now don’t make me have to spank ya both.”

Both of them huffed and moved away from each other. Zalu grumpily dropped back down onto the porch, while Zuka went back inside and muttered to herself all the way. Zami, meanwhile, leaned against the doorway, making himself a barrer in case either tried to go back to the other. He removed his dagger from his hip, beginning to play with it.

“Wow,” Juba finally spoke up, looking over, “Nobody’s ever made dem stop fightin’ before.”

Zami looked over at her and shrugged.

“I have a way wit animals.”


	5. The Vision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Plot happening! Now we start to learn more about why Zami's eye isn't regenerating like it should.

That night, Zami had a hard time sleeping. His eye was itchy. It was healing so slowly, and now was crusting over with a scab. Still he couldn’t see out of it. He was almost offended that his siblings hadn’t asked about it, but he supposed it was of little concern compared to something like Zalu’s leg. After rolling about restlessly on the bedroll that’d been set out for him in the same room with Zalu, he finally growled and sat up. Sleeping was hopeless. He needed something else to do.

Zami glanced over at Zalu, who was snoring loudly. He envied Zalu’s ability to fall asleep moments after he laid down. It was always hard for him to fall asleep when he had things on his mind. His thoughts just wouldn’t quiet down enough for sleep to come. Bending a leg, he rested his chin upon his knee and sighed tiredly.

All of a sudden, he heard a faint voice. His ears twitched as he strained to listen. It sounded like a woman. Like Zuka. His expression shone with concern for a moment, before he realized she was moaning. His expression flattened and he rolled his eyes. At least this marriage seemed to be working out for her. This must’ve been her...what was it now? Fourth marriage? First there was that fisherman with the tiny tusks, then there was the orc, and then there was the one who couldn’t stay away from the voodoo. He hadn’t met this fourth one, Jul, except at the wedding. They hadn’t talked much, as Zami had spent the whole wedding trying to keep his brother Zuri from causing trouble.

Zami shook his head, recalling the chaos Zuri always gotten into. That boy just drank way too much, even since they were children. It was rare to catch him sober. Not the best method for a hunter perhaps, but how difficult could hunting plainstriders be? The birds weren’t known for their cunning. Then again, neither was Zuri. He couldn’t even read.

Suddenly, Zuka appeared at the doorway, looking at Zami like she’d seen a ghost. She was fully dressed in her robes. Zami thanked the Loa for small graces.

“Brudda,” She began softly, her eyes wild, “I had a vision.”

“A vision?” Zami cocked his head to the side, “What kinda vision?”

“A vision from Gonk.”

“Da Great Hunter be talkin’ to you?” Zami quirked an eyebrow, “Well, dat makes sense. You be a priestess of Gonk.”

Zalu stirred, rolling over.

“Shuddup, both of ya. I’m tryin’ to sleep here…” He muttered tiredly.

“Zalu, dis is about you too,” Zuka said, looking at him crossly, “Gonk sent me a vision about you.”

“Dat so…” Zalu nestled deeper into his blankets, clearly intent on ignoring her.

“I saw a bear.”

That got Zalu to sit up.

“A bear?” He blinked the sleep from his eyes, running his hand down to his stump leg.

“Yes,” Zuka nodded, before turning to Zami, “And a jungle cat.”

Zami raised his eyebrows in surprise. He’d never mentioned what happened with his eye. There was no way she could’ve known, unless…

“You really did speak to Gonk…” He mumbled, unable to hide his surprise.

“What, ya think I’d be lyin’ about it?” Zuka put a hand on her hip.

“What’d ya see wit da bear?” Zalu asked impatiently.

Zuka stepped forward, entering the room, and took a seat between the both of them.

“Gonk spoke. He told me bout what happened when dey took da Echo Isles back from Zalazane all dose months ago.”

“I been meanin’ to ask about dat,” Zami nodded, “So da Isles belong to da Darkspear again?”

Zalu waved a hand at him dismissively, shushing him.

“Nevermind dat, mon. What about da bear?”

“Dats what I’m tryin’ to tell ya,” Zuka sighed, “You were da bear.”

“What? Like, cause of my leg…?” Zalu blinked.

“No,” Zuka shook her head, “Like it was you. You became da bear.”

Zami snickered, looking over at Zalu with a grin.

“Maybe it’s about how now he’s such a pain in da a---”

“And you were da cat,” Zuka interrupted.

Zami turned back to her, eyebrow perked.

“What’cha mean, woman?”

“Do ya boys even listen?” Zuka sighed, “Ya became da cat, same as Zalu became da bear.”

“Maybe it’s an omen,” Zalu suggested.

“Gonk don’t be wastin’ his time tellin’ me little omens,” Zuka shook her head, “Dis is important. I wish ya two would just listen to me and stop interruptin’ me all da time.”

Though it was difficult for them, Zami and Zalu managed to restrain themselves from further interruptions. They let Zuka recount the story of how the Echo Isles were taken back from Zalazane during the start of the Shattering. They listened as Zuka told them what Gonk had told her, about how he’d spoken to a witch doctor and brought her to the Emerald Dream. 

Now, Zami had no idea what the Emerald Dream was. It sounded like some kind of Goblin life goal. And from the way she spoke about it, he had an inkling that Zuka had no idea what it was either. When her story was finished, Zami only understood pieces of it. Something about saving beasts of the wilderness and Gonk appearing in a vision. And maybe Goblins.

“And den Gonk showed me you two,” Zuka finished, “Zalu, you became da bear. And Zami, you became da jungle cat. Only, I ain’t never seen no bears or cats like dese two.”

Both brothers cocked their heads to the side.

“Well, dey had tusks,” Zuka explained, “And dey were blue.”

“Ha! Just like us!” Zalu laughed, the realization only dawning on his face after a full minute, “Hey, wait a second…”

“Took ya long enough, bonehead,” Zuka sighed in exasperation.

“So what’s all dis s’posta mean?” Zami asked, “For us?”

“Well, ya see I...I don’t know what it means. Dat’s da truth.”

Zami and Zalu looked between each other flatly.

“So,” Zalu cleared his throat, “Ya tellin’ me...ya woke us up, in da middle of da night, and ya don’t even know why?”

“Yes.”

“And ya just...got nothin’ else to add to dat?”

“Correct.”

“So ya wastin’ our time?”

Zuka narrowed her eyes.

“No, I be givin’ a message from Gonk. Just cause we don’t get it doesn’t mean it don’t matter.”

Zalu clicked his tongue and laid back down. He rolled over facing the wall and pulled the blanket up to his chin, a clear sign that he’d checked out of the conversation. He began to snore in mere moments, leading Zuka to sigh. She then turned to Zami.

“Well...at least you believe me don’cha, big brudda?”

Zami lowered his chin back onto his knee, thinking a moment. And then he nodded slowly. He figured she couldn’t have known about the panther without some help. Even despite the fact that Zuka was a busybody, always sticking her nose where it didn’t belong. Even if she’d somehow been keeping tabs on him from all the way across the sea, he’d been alone when that panther attacked him. And he’d not told anybody how it happened.

“Den you’ll help me figure dis vision out, won’t ya?” Zuka asked, drawing him from his thoughts.

Zami hesitated. It was unwise to ignore a message from the Loa, but who knew what this vision meant? And every second he wasted here, far over in the Eastern Kingdoms, Jumi was still alive. And that itself was an insult. Zami cleared his throat, glancing aside.

“Well, I gotta be gettin’ back to Stranglethorn, so…”

“Oh no ya don’t,” Zuka shook her head, “You ain’t gonna be runnin’ out on ya family for dat stinkin’ jungle.”

“I ain’t runnin’ out on anybody,” Zami scowled, “I’m gettin’ justice.”

“Vengeance, ya mean,” Zuka stood up and crossed her arms.

“So what?” Zami shrugged, “So what if it’s revenge? He left us when we needed him.”

“And now ya doin’ da same thing.”

Zami stood up angrily, furiously. 

“Don’t be talkin’ about things ya don’t understand, woman.”

Zuka uncrossed her arms, holding out her hand. She set it gently over his eye. At first he flinched to move away. Regardless, she kept her hand in place.

“Ya remember da story of Gri’lek?”

Zami glanced aside with his one working eye.

“Do ya remember da story, Zami?” She asked again.

“Yeah, I remember it. So what?”

“He angered da Loa, and dey took away his regeneratin’ forever.”

Zami shrugged his shoulders, still looking away.

“If ya go back to Stranglethorn now, ya ignoring Gonk’s message to ya. And den what’ll happen?”

Zami shrugged again.

“What’s already happenin’ to ya?” She continued.

This caused Zami to look up in surprise.

“Gonk’s not happy wit ya. He wants ya here. Why, I dunno. But dis is what da Great Hunter wants of ya, so it’s what ya gotta do.”

Zami sighed, nodding his head tiredly.

“I s’pose dat Stranglethorn can wait...for now.”

Zuka nodded back, looking pleased.

“We should take news of dis to Vol’jin in da morning.”

Zami cocked his head to the side.

“All da way in Orgrimmar? But dat’ll take days to get dere, and---”

“Oh, don’tcha know?” Zuka smiled, “Vol’jin lives on the Echo Isles now.”

Zami blinked a few times in surprise. He supposed things really had changed.


	6. Remaining

Zami grumbled and rolled over in his bedroll, even as Zalu continued to poke his back with the end of his cane.

“Come on, get up, mon,” Zalu whined as his pokes turned more into smacks.

“Alright, alright, fine,” Zami groaned and sat up, slumping his shoulders.

Zalu waved for him to get up and Zami slumped down further, earning him a scowl.

“Hey, you’re not da one dats gonna look like a fool who don’t know what he’s doin’ at all,” Zalu leaned on his cane, “What’re you even complainin’ about? You did dis for years without battin’ an eye.”

“It’s women’s work,” Zami whined.

“Yeah,” Zalu nodded, “And cripple’s work.”

“What’s dat say about me, den?”

“Da whinin’ says more.”

Zami sighed and stood up, wiping his nose, before beginning to get dressed in his clothes.

“I hate dis. Why do I gotta work?”

“Zuka already told ya, mon. If ya wanna eat, ya gotta get it yourself. She don’t make no coin as a priestess, mon.”

“I know dat,” Zami sighed, “But what about Jul? He’s got a job, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Zalu shrugged, “I think he’s s’posta be a fisherman. Never catches nothin’ though.”

Zami groaned in exasperation, pulling up his pants. 

“But why can’t we go with Zuka to talk to Vol’jin?”

“I dunno,” Zalu shrugged, “Zuka thinks he’s cute. Bet she’s gonna make a fool of herself and doesn’t want us around to see it.”

Zami nodded and began to put on his shirt. That definitely sounded like Zuka. Always looking at other men while she’s married.

“Hey, but isn’t Vol’jin married? Back in Stranglethorn, my friend Nimboya had me help him look for Vol’jin’s son.”

“Ya know, actually---”

There was a knock at the door. Zami and Zalu looked up where Juba was standing, hugging her ragdoll.

“What’cha want, brat?” Zami asked, looking over at her as he stooped to put on his leg wraps.

“Mama said I’m gonna go wit ya two today,” She smiled, “She said I’m s’posta keep ya outta trouble.”

“What’s dis now?” Zalu snorted, “She thinks some little kid’s gonna keep me outta trouble? Ha! I’ll show her!”

Juba smiled and put a hand on her hip, just like her mother always did.

“I ain’t just some little kid,” She said proudly, “I’m almost all grown up.”

“Oh, you be all grown up, huh?” Zalu said mockingly, “And how old you be again?”

“I’m almost ten!”

“Ooh, ten,” Zalu nudged Zami, “I believe it. Ya see all dose wrinkles she got?”

“I don’t got wrinkles!” Juba pouted and crossed her arms.

“Oh but ya gotta have wrinkles if ya be grown up,” Zalu grinned, and Zami nodded, “After all, look at Zami here. He’s older den all of us, so he got wrinkles deeper den Thunder Ridge.”

Zami paused in his nodding and scowled, as Zalu and Juba laughed at his expense. Seeing as there was no one else home to watch after her, they submitted to taking Juba along as they headed to the market. As she skipped along ahead of them, still hugging her ragdoll, Zami glanced over at Zalu.

“Ya know, you’re pretty good wit her,” He pointed out, “You always been good wit kids, ain’t ya?”

Zalu shrugged, nodding a bit.

“You ever think about havin’ any of ya own?” Zami asked.

Zalu shrugged again, frowning a bit.

“Well, I s’pose I gotta, right? Dere ain’t nobody else left, and you sure ain’t gonna.”

Zami stopped in place, holding up his hand. His expression was blank.

“I have two questions,” He said, pointing to his first finger, “First, what’cha mean I sure ain’t?”

Zalu shrugged once more.

“Well, ya know…” He mumbled, “Ya ain’t really…”

“Ain’t really what?” Zami scowled.

“Ya old.”

Zami stared back blankly, not really knowing how to respond to that. It wasn’t like he could deny it, but he couldn’t just admit it either. He felt like he’d been hit in the head with a hammer. By this time, Juba had stopped ahead of them and was waiting impatiently. Finally, his expression returned to a scowl.

“Yeah? So what?” He hissed.

“Ain’t nobody gonna waste dey time wit an old troll,” Zalu shrugged.

“Or a crippled one,” Zami added bitterly.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say dat,” Zalu grinned, “I already got a woman.”

Zami blinked in disbelief.

“Ya married?”

“Well, I didn’t say dat.”

Juba turned back to them, putting her hand on her hip.

“Come on already!” She ordered, and they began to follow her again.

“Okay, fine,” Zami looked over, speaking quietly, “But what’cha mean dere ain’t nobody else?”

Zalu didn’t respond for a minute, glancing aside. Then he looked down at his foot.

“All our bruddas are dead.”

Zami nearly tripped over himself, earning a scolding glance back from Juba. He forced a smile at her, then snapped his head to look at Zalu.

“What’cha talkin’ about?” He whispered quickly.

“Well, Zuri died first. He was too drunk and fell in da Southfury River while chasin’ some plainstriders. Drowned.”

Zami cringed, almost in disbelief that Zuri was dead, and due to plainstriders no less.

“What about Zeni?”

“Da naga got him. Spritescale been tryin’ to get us for a while, and he was helpin’ defend da Village. Wasn’t a pretty death...”

Zami quickly ignored the thought that Zeni might’ve lived if he’d been here.

“And Zoji?”

“Da Alliance got him.”

“How?”

“He was a soldier. What’cha think happened?”

Zami shook his head.

“But how’d he go? Fightin’ at least?”

“Don’t know da details, dey didn’t tell us much. Like it be a secret. Just dat he was in Ashenvale when it happened.”

The rest of the day was in a sort of haze. Zami couldn’t focus, even when he was wrist-deep in the back carapace of one of the scorpions surrounding Sen’jin Village. And he couldn’t focus as he was showing Zalu how to hold the skinning knife, or how to thread a needle, or how to sew together two pieces of leather. He couldn’t focus when Juba asked him to make her dolly a little set of armor, or when cried from stepping on a baby scorpid and squishing it. He couldn’t even focus as they walked back to the Village.

It wasn’t until Zuka finally returned home that he was snapped out of his haze.

“Oh, ya back,” Zalu looked up from where he was seated on the floor, playing dolls with Juba, “What’d Vol’jin say?”

Zuka scowled, crossing her arms.

“Dat he’ll consult wit da spirits and think on it.”

“Better dan rushin’ in wit no plan,” Zami shrugged, staring at the floor.

Zalu laughed.

“Ah, plans are for da tauren. We’re trolls, mon. Rushin’ in wit no plan is kinda what we do.”

“Yeah,” Zami muttered bitterly, “Guess dats why we all die so young.”


	7. In The Village

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the plot is taking so long to kick off!

Zami sat crouched under the shade of a cactus. The sun was particularly boiling on this day, and it made the desert sands nearly unbearable. Sweat dripped down his face. Zalu sat next to him in the sand, panting softly.

“Where are all da beasties…” Zami mumbled, examining the empty desert before them.

“Dey don’t come out in dis kinda heat, mon,” Zalu fanned himself, “We shouldn’t be neither.”

After another fruitless minute of waiting, Zami sighed and stood up.

“Alright, fine,” He said as he extended a hand to Zalu, “Let’s just go home.”

Zalu grabbed Zami’s and and together they pulled him up so that he was standing. He then leaned his arm over onto his walking stick, giving Zami a nod of appreciation. Then they began to make their way back for the Village.

“Wish I could be more help durin’ all dis,” Zalu sighed, “I know I ain’t much use just sittin’ dere watchin’ ya.”

“Why don’tcha pick ya bow back up?” Zami asked, looking over at him, “Shoot from a distance?”

Zalu shrugged, looking down.

“My time as a hunter is over,” He sighed, “I ain’t no use anymore.”

“Dat ain’t true,” Zami shook his head, “You still got a steady bow arm, and two good eyes, and ya still a good tracker. Not to mention dat smart mouth ya got, even if it don’t come wit a smart head.”

“I dunno,” Zalu shrugged, “It just feels like it be time for me to move onto somethin’ else now. Ya know what I mean?”

Zami nodded and they continued to walk through the village. During the time he’d been here, Zami had noticed something. Whenever he passed the villagers, they would stare at Zalu. The expressions were hard to read, but Zami placed their reactions to Zalu somewhere between amusement and disgust. Zalu never seemed bothered by it, although Zami had wanted to poke them in their staring eyes sometimes.

“Oh,” Zami looked over as they passed the large community house, “Gotta buy some salt from Tai’tasi for dryin’ da skins. Be right back.”

After heading inside and trading a few coins for a small sack of salt, Zami returned to the entrance of the communal building and stopped short. One of the villagers, a younger male, walked past Zalu, who was busy looking towards the ocean as he waited. As the villager had walked past, he knocked into Zalu’s cane, causing it to slip on the sand and slide out from underneath him. With nothing to hold him up, Zalu fell face-first into the hot sand in a small cloud. Several of the villagers chuckled at Zalu’s expense, irritating Zami. But Zalu’s expression was blank, emotionless.

Zami quickly descended the steps of the communal building, hurrying to his brother’s side to help him up. But as he grabbed Zalu’s arm, his brother angrily wrenched it away. He sat up on his own and brushed the sand off. But when he went to reach for his cane, the same young villager snatched it away. It was only then that some of Zalu’s anger began to show on his face.

“Hey, ya stupid boy,” He held out his hand towards the villager, “Gimme my walkin’ stick.”

“Hmm, why should I?” The villager grinned, “What’cha gonna do about it from down dere?”

Zami gritted his teeth, wanting to give this kid the beating his parents clearly never did. It was clear that Zalu’s patience was wearing thin too. And his pride as well, Zami thought to himself. Though his eyes were on fire, there was physically nothing he could do. And so after a moment, Zalu lowered his eyes to the red sand quietly. That only elicited mocking laughter from the villager and those around him, who seemed to be keen on the ‘joke’ too.

“Hey, boy, didn’t ya parents ever teach ya to respect ya eldars?” Zami grumbled to the villager.

“What’s to respect?” The villager shrugged, “Ya just an old man and a cripple.”

Zami angrily put his hand on his dagger, and Zalu quickly grabbed his arm.

“Help me up, brudda,” Zalu said to him in a defeated tone, “I got another stick at home. It’s fine.”

“It ain’t fine, let me deal wit dis kid. Maybe he’ll think dif’rent about cripples when he is one.”

“Nah,” Zalu shook his head, “Let da brat go. I heard worse.”

Zami slowly nodded, letting the anger leave his body with a frustrated sigh. Then he helped Zalu to his feet, swinging his brother’s arm around his shoulders so he could lean onto him. The villager continued to make inflammatory remarks in their direction, and his little group of lackeys would laugh. Zami found it especially annoying, but what could he do? It wasn’t like he could just go around murdering children, no matter how annoying they might be. Besides, it would be awkward interacting with their parents. That was the trouble of a small village. Everybody knew everybody else, and their business too.

“Go ahead, run away,” The villager sneered at their backs, “I heard ya family’s good at dat.”

Zalu went rigid, his body instantly becoming dead weight, a clear signal for Zami to stop. Zami didn’t want to stop, however. He knew what would happen if he did, and he continued to drag Zalu through the sand towards their house.

“Just ignore it,” Zami muttered to him, continuing to pull Zalu away from the conflict.

“I can’t,” Zalu said quietly, “Maybe dat works for you...but I just can’t let him get away wit it.”

Zami went to speak when he felt Zalu pull the dagger from his hip. Then Zami disentangled himself from his brother, turning in a swift motion and throwing the dagger, before falling to the ground. There were quite a few gasps from the small audience of villagers. Zami covered his face with his hand, giving an exasperated sigh, as he heard the young villager’s corpse hit the sand. While Zami had always been terrible at hitting a target from a distance, Zalu was the opposite; he never missed.


	8. Punishment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate writing a major canon character like Vol’jin, even though he’s my favorite character in Warcraft canon. I’m just always afraid of doing it wrong.

When Zami had said he’d wanted to meet with Vol’jin, this wasn’t at all what he’d meant. He and Zalu had their hands bound behind them, and were forced onto their knees in front of the chief, who was looking down at them with disappointment. A small noisy crowd had gathered in the chief’s hut, watching. Their voices spoke various accusations, from claims that it was an entirely unprompted murder, to claiming they’d stolen from the traders in the communal building. Zuka pushed her way to the front of the crowd, but was held back by the spears of the Sen’jin Guardians.

From the crowd, a woman’s voice shouted above the rest, “Dey killed my boy, Vol’jin! Now ya betta return da favor!”’

But Vol’jin wasn’t quick to act, not before hearing what had happened. He listened to the testimony of several villagers who had witnessed the murder, including Sen’jin Village’s own Watchers, although Zami couldn’t really focus on what they were saying. He was too busy looking over at Zalu, who looked like a broken man. It was painful to see his little brother look like that.

Zalu had always been the most lively of them all. He’d always been the most confident, and certainly their mother’s favorite. He’d always attributed that to Zalu being the youngest. They do say that mothers prefer the baby of the family. He supposed that was part of why Zalu was always so free-spirited, too. Being so young, with so many older siblings, there wasn’t much left for him to do in the way of chores. That left him a lot more time to goof off, and he’d perfected the art of it over the years. 

His vision of Zalu was suddenly blocked as a Guardian stepped forward between them. She handed Vol’jin the bloody dagger that had been the murder weapon; Zami’s own dagger. Vol’jin looked the blade over, examining it closely, before looking to the brothers.

“So,” Vol’jin finally spoke, “Do either of you recognize dis blade?”

The first thing that Zami noticed was how good Vol’jin was at speaking Orcish. He was nearly as good as an orc, although his accent was still noticeable. He supposed all that time Vol’jin had spent in Orgrimmar had done him some good, as far as the language.

“Yes,” Zalu answered first, drawing Zami back from his thoughts.

“Dat blade is mine,” Zami said quickly, glancing over at Zalu with concern.

“But I threw da thing. I’m da one who killed da boy,” Zalu added on, glancing back.

Vol’jin looked at the brothers for a moment, stroking his red beard.

“So you admit to killin’ the boy, then?” He asked, looking more at Zalu than Zami.

“Yes,” Zalu nodded.

Zami bit his lip, unsure what to do or say now.

“And you understand what da charges against you mean if you’re found guilty?” Vol’jin asked.

“Yes,” Zalu nodded once more, looking down.

Vol’jin glanced over at Zami, who still had nothing he could add, before turning his gaze back to Zalu. He thought a moment before speaking.

“Seems to be an important time, dese days,” Vol’jin began, “Things are changin’ all around us. In da world, and in da Horde. And it doesn’t seem to be for da better.”

Vol’jin looked then to the crowd that had gathered.

“Da Darkspear should be comin’ together in a time like dis. Instead, here we are tearin’ each other apart.”

Vol’jin turned back to Zalu, who was still looking down at the floor.

“I’ve made my decision, den,” He nodded slowly, stroking his beard once more, “We’ll follow da laws our people put in place for dese kinds of situations. It ain’t easy to be da one who gives da order, but da penalty for murderin’ within da tribe is death.”

Zami lowered his head grimly upon hearing this. In truth, he’d kind of expected it. But, again, what could he do about it? There was nothing left to say. Accepting the fate his chief had rendered, Zami closed his eyes. He thought of his mother, and his raptor, and, to his surprise, he thought of Stranglethorn’s deep blue night sky. Even as he heard the Sen’jin Guardians approach to ready their weapons. He braced himself for the impact he knew was coming, when all of a sudden...

“Wait!” A familiar voice cried, “Ya can’t kill dem!”

Zami flinched, opening his eyes after a moment when the sting of a blade never came. Looking up slowly, he glanced over his shoulder. Zuka was pushing her way to the front of the crowd, towards them. The Guardians moved to stop her, but Vol’jin waved his hand.

“What’s dis now?” He asked, a glint of something like curiosity in his eyes.

“Ya can’t kill da two of dem,” Zuka said quickly, “And ya know it.”

The crowd murmured amongst themselves, an inflexion of confusion in their voices.

“Da Great Hunter already has plans for dem,” His sister continued, “If ya kill dem now, you’ll anger da Loa.”

Vol’jin looked at Zuka with an expression that Zami couldn’t quite read. It was a knowing look, as though he’d already known what Zuka was going to do and say from the very moment he laid down their sentences. The chief had always had an almost precognitive way about him. Zami supposed it came with being a shadow hunter.

“You speak with wisdom, priestess,” Vol’jin nodded, “But at the same time, I can’t let these crimes go unpunished. A boy is dead.”

Zuka glanced over at her brothers briefly for a moment, before looking back to Vol’jin.

“Then give dem a different punishment,” She suggested, “One dat won’t be interferin’ wit Gonk’s plans for dem.”

“Such as?” Vol’jin began to stoke his beard again.

Zuka looked to her brothers again. Zami could tell by the look in her eyes that her mind was trying to scan every possible option. Finally, he saw something click in her, and she looked back to the chief once more.

“Banish dem from da Village,” She said slowly.

Vol’jin continued to stroke his beard for a moment, thinking over her suggestion, before giving a tacit nod of his head.


	9. Goodbyes

“Ya fools! Ya boneheads,” Zuka hissed, giving a hard smack to both of her brothers’ heads, “Ya could’ve gotten ya selves killed. And for what? Ya stupid pride?”

Zami zoned out a bit as Zuka continued to lecture them. They waited in the chief’s hut for Jul to gather up their things from the house for them, then they were to be ousted from the Village in a rather unceremonial way. It wasn’t quite what Zami had expected, coming home after so long only to get banished from it. He could never return, and that fact still hadn’t sunk in all the way just yet.

“Look at ya,” Zuka smacked his shoulder, breaking his thoughts, “Ya can’t even listen to me for a few minutes. Ya hopeless. Fine, if ya so smart dat ya don’t need to listen to me, den do ya even know where ya gonna go now?”

“Back to Stranglethorn?” Zami shrugged.

“No!” Zuka smacked his shoulder again, “Ya gotta stay and do Gonk’s will!”

“But I can’t stay,” Zami gave an exasperated sigh, “I’m banished, remember? It was ya own idea, Zuka!”

“Better den dead!” She growled.

“But where are we s’posta go now?” Zalu suddenly muttered, “And who gonna take in a cripple like me?”

“Well,” Zuka scowled over at him, “Ya shoulda thought of dat when ya killed dat boy.”

Zalu looked over at her with angry, tired eyes.

“He deserved it, and I’d do it again if I could.”

“Den quit ya whinin’ about it,” Zuka hissed back at him, “Ya ain’t da one cryin’ tonight. Ya don’t know what it be like to be a ma’da and have some senseless fool, like ya self, take dat away in a blink of ya eye.”

“Look at ya, Zuka, tryin’ to be talkin’ from experience,” Zalu grumbled, “But ya can’t blame nobody but ya self. Ya killed ya own kid.”

Zuka’s eyes flashed with the fury of a thousand angry felbeasts, and began to smash her fists down on Zalu’s head. Zami sighed and turned his head away, and then he went rigid at what he saw. He anxiously reached out to grab Zuka’s arm, to stop her, but she shrugged him off and continued the beating. Zalu just took it expressionlessly, but there was still that ever-present silent anger in his eyes. Zami cringed and put his head in his hand, feeling entirely powerless to stop the two idiots. He really missed having his dagger; now all he had was his pitiful little skinning knife.

“Sorry to be interruptin’ your...” Vol’jin cleared his throat, “...family matter.”

Zuka froze in place, like she’d been hit with an ice spell, and her face went a shade of deep purple. Even Zalu seemed a bit embarrassed as he wordlessly glanced to the floor.

“A-Ah! Vol’jin!” Zuka stood up quickly and spoke as fast, “What’cha be needin’ wit my fool bruddas?”

“I’ve been thinkin’ about what you told me da other day, priestess. About dis vision,” Vol’jin began to stroke his beard, “And I think I know where da two of you should be goin’ now.”

All of them looked at him curiously, even Zalu.

“I’ve seen many things in my long life,” Vol’jin continued, “And I’ve seen things like dat vision. Da druids of da Tauren have a power like da one you spoke of. Da power to change skins, and become da beasts.”

“...Even a bear?” Zalu asked tentatively, to which Vol’jin nodded.

“I don’t know what da Great Hunter has in store for you two. He didn’t feel a need to share da likes of such with old Vol’jin. But if anyone will be able to put you on da right path to findin’ out, you should be headin’ west to Mulgore.”

Jul finally arrived with their handfuls of things, which they quickly installed into their respective packs. Zami carried most of it out of courtesy. When the time finally came that they were standing upon the fringes of Sen’jin Village, which was golden in the sunset once more, Zami felt a twinge of pain in his heart. Maybe the reality had finally started to sink in.

“I wish I could go wit ya,” Zuka sighed, “Who’s gonna take care of da two of ya? Ya both hopeless fools.”

“You got a family here,” Zami nodded back to the Village, “A daughter. She needs ya a lot more, don’tcha think?”

Zalu frowned and looked down. After a moment, he looked over at Zuka.

“Tell Juba dat I said goodbye, okay?” He mumbled, a hint of sadness in his voice.

Zuka nodded, saying nothing.

“Take care of her, Zuka,” He continued, “She’s a good kid. Not like...”

Zalu trailed off, biting his tongue on the words to stifle them before they left his mouth. Zami blinked curiously. It was rare for Zalu to show any kind of self-restraint. But he supposed today had been something of a valuable learning experience for him. Maybe it had been for the both of them. Zalu had, hopefully, learned not to act so rashly or react on impulse in the future. And Zami had learned that he needed to add a safety clip to his knife holster.

“I will, and ya two take care of each other,” Zuka said as she pulled them both into a hug.

Physical displays of affection were rare in his family. Violent displays of anger were far more common. Zami wasn’t used to being hugged, and it made him squirm a bit. He understood the sentiment behind it, but it just felt too alien coming from his sister. He almost would’ve preferred if she’s smacked him in the head instead. At least it would’ve been nostalgic.

When they had finally departed from the Village in earnest, and were out of Zuka’s earshot, Zalu sighed loudly. Zami looked over with a perked brow.

“I can’t believe dis, mon,” He shrugged, looking bitter, “Dat kid was askin’ for it.”

Zami’s expression flatlined and he rolled his eyes.

“Ya killed dat kid, brudda. Ya can’t just go around killin’ whoever ya please.”

“Dat never stopped you,” Zalu countered, glancing over.

Zami rose his eyebrows in surprise, stricken speechless for a brief moment.

“Oh? What, ya think we didn’t know?” Zalu continued, “Ya think we never heard of what ya were doin’ wit da goblins?”

Zami glanced aside, beginning to rub his still-not-working eye. It had seemed to become almost something of a nervous habit these last few days, he had noticed.

“And I heard what ya did in Booty Bay---”

Zami looked over at him, instantly silencing his brother with a fierce glare.

“Ya don’t be talkin’ about dat,” He growled, turning back away, “Dat was years ago. It was another time.”

“If ya say so,” Zalu shrugged, pausing to lean on his cane, “Anyway, where we headed now?”

“Ya heard Vol’jin. We’re goin’ to Mulgore.”

“Alright, but how?” Zalu continued to walk again after readjusting his cane.

Zami glanced down at his brother. Zalu had to put great effort into walking with that cane, and it was quite the strain for him to do so, even if he may have pretended it wasn’t. Walking there was out of the question. It would just take too long to go at a pace suitable for Zalu, it would be months or maybe even longer. No, that only left one option…

“Well,” Zami sighed miserably, “I guess we gotta fly.”


	10. Thunder Bluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo hoo! Finally! The main plot emerges! Sorry it took 10 chapters!

Zami really missed the zeppelin. At least on the airship, he could close his eyes and pretend he wasn’t hundreds of feet in the air. But that wasn’t such an easy feat on the back of a wind rider. He could feel the wind rushing against his skin, and the sound of it whooshing in his ear. That, and Zalu’s excited whooping over his shoulder.

“Woo hoo! Now dis is what I’m talkin’ about, mon!” Zalu cheered, “Go faster, beastie! Fly higher!”

“Don’t do either of dose things!” Zami wailed, clinging tighter to the wind rider’s reins.

The wind rider made an irritated grunt at the both of them and continued its level, leisurely pace. Much to Zalu’s disappointment.

“Aw, ya dang beastie…” He sighed, leaning his chin forward against Zami’s shoulder, “Hey, brudda. I been meanin’ to ask. Why ya so afraid of flyin’ anyhow?”

Zami gave a long-winded sigh, not releasing the leather straps from his hands.

“I dunno,” He said after a moment, “Somethin’ about bein’ dis far from da ground...I dunno. Just don’t feel right.”

“Huh, well I love it,” Zalu chuckled, “I love da feelin’ of soarin’ far away from it all. And I can go as fast as my mount can go. It don’t matter about my leg none.”

Zami gave a slight nod of his head, staring at the dense fur on the wind rider’s back. If he looked anywhere else, he’d just see empty blue sky or the golden Barrens far, far below them. And the thought of either made Zami grip the reins harder.

It hadn’t taken more than a day to fly all the way across the sea in the airship. And even though it was a bit slower by comparison, the wind rider landed in Thunder Bluff after a few hours. The wind rider unceremoniously dropped the two brothers off of its back, making them both land painfully next to the wind rider master.

The tauren tossed the wind rider a piece of meat, a reward for a job well done, and looked over at the two trolls.

“Well, hello there!” The tauren chuckled, “Welcome to Thunder Bluff.”

Zalu sat up, spitting out pieces of hay, as Zami got back to his feet. He reached for Zalu’s cane, which had nearly rolled down the spiral stairwell, but thankfully was caught in time just as it began to tilt over the edge. Giving a quick sigh of relief, he handed the cane to Zalu and helped his brother to his feet. Then the two of them turned to the tauren.

“What business brings you to Mulgore today?” The tauren asked, his voice deep and booming.

Both brothers looked between each other, uncertain what to say.

“We’re, uh, lookin’ for da druids,” Zami shrugged, supposing that would be enough.

They didn’t exactly have much to go off, after all.

“Ah, you should speak to Kym Wildmane. You can find her in the Elder Rise.”

Zami and Zalu blinked at the flight master, their expressions both blank and clueless. The tauren snorted through his nose in exasperation.

“...That way,” He sighed.

“Many thanks, mon,” Zami nodded his head in appreciation.

Then he and Zalu tenuously made their way down the spiral ramp, trying to head in the direction that the flight master had pointed. Finding their way through the tauren city was a disaster. Thunder Bluff was not build in a very intuitive way, Zami thought. Or, at least, not intuitive for a troll. Maybe having a city high up, he could understand, but why all the confusing different areas? Which one was the Hunter Rise and which one was the High Rise? Was that the Low Riser or the Central Rise? No, it was actually the Spirit Rise all along. What the heck was even a Rise, anyway? It all made his head hurt.

And that wasn’t even counting how bright and sunny Mulgore was. Everything was so green and cheery. The sky was such a searing bright blue that it could burn out your eyeballs. Or in Zami’s case, just one. It was absolutely miserable, in his opinion.

Finally, after wasting far more time than either brother would’ve liked to admit, they finally found the Elder Rise. They’d practically had to be led by the hand by some of the more patient Thunder Bluff Protectors. Once they were in the Elder Rise, it wasn’t a particularly difficult feat to come upon Kym Wildmane. She was leaning on her staff, talking to a tall tauren man. As they approached, she looked over in surprise. No doubt, being approached by perhaps the only two trolls in Thunder Bluff was probably pretty surprising.

“Yes?” She blinked at them, “What can I help you with?”

The male tauren lingered nearby, watching closely. He had solid black fur and two large upright horns, which were adorned with various wooden charms. The same charms decorated his thick black hair, which had been pulled into a braid behind him.

“Er, our chief...Vol’jin, dat is...he told us we should talk to ya,” Zalu smiled awkwardly, not really sure what to say.

“He referred you to me, by name?” Kym’s face shown with surprise.

“Well, no,” Zalu rubbed his neck, “Just, ya know, da druids.”

“I see,” Kym nodded, “But whatever for?”

“Ah, well…” Zalu frowned, looking over at Zami, “Dis is kinda hard to explain. Ya see, our sister...well, she’s not just our sister. She be a priestess of da Loa. Ya know, da Loa? She serves Gonk. He be da Great Hunter. Well, anyway, she got dis vision---I mean, it was actually more like a dream, I guess, but----”

“She had a vision of dat fool and I turnin’ into animals,” Zami sighed.

“....Yeah...dat,” Zalu cleared his throat.

“Turning into animals?” Kym raised her thick brown eyebrows, “What sort of animals?”

“Well, da fool beame a bear, and I became some kinda jungle cat,” Zami explained.

“Interesting,” The male tauren spoke up, stroking his chin. “What do you think, Kym?”

“Well, it does sound similar to our power to shapeshift,” Kym began, “But we’ve never gained druidic our powers because of visions alone. We feel a call from the Earthmother, within our hearts.”

“...You had anythin’ like dat, brudda?” Zalu looked over.

Zami shook his head.

“Yeah, me neither.”

“Hmm, then I fear perhaps your chief has erred by sending you here. Perhaps it was, as you said before, merely just a dream. Besides, the Earthmother does not call to trolls such as yourselves.”

“Hold on a moment,” The male tauren spoke up, “Who are we to say who the Earthmother may beckon unto herself? Perhaps this Loa of theirs, this Great Hunter, is merely a face of the Earthmother.”

Zami furrowed his brow, not sure that he liked whatever the tauren was implying about Gonk.

“I suppose, but...Khail, you don’t truly believe these trolls could become druids?”

“I see no reason why not,” The male tauren chuckled, “And besides, shouldn’t we be seeking to teach our ways to as many as possible, regardless of wherever they may come from?”

“Well, yes, but…” Kym glanced over, “How could I ever train a troll? I don’t know how to…explain the nature of our path in a way they might understand.”

Now Zalu furrowed his brow, not liking whatever she was implying about their intelligence.

“Maybe we should just be leavin’ den, brudda,” Zalu scowled, “It’s clear comin’ here was a waste of time.”

“Now, hold on,” The male tauren held up a hand, “If Kym cannot teach you, then perhaps I can.”

“You?” Kym smirked, “Khail, you’re no teacher.”

“That is true,” The male tauren, called Khail apparently, nodded, “But perhaps the Earthmother intends that I become one. Besides, even if I cannot teach them, they could return with me to Moonglade and learn from hundreds of teachers.”

“But trolls don’t follow the druidic path,” Kym shook her head.

“Not yet, perhaps,” Khail smiled, “But who better to bring them into the fold than the Cenarion Circle?”


	11. The Mountainwalker

“Forgive me, I neglected to introduce myself before. I am Khail Mountainwalker,” Khail said as he led Zami and Zalu through the various Rises of Thunder Bluff with such an ease that it made Zami nervous.

“I’m Zalu, and dis my brudda Zami,” Zalu explained, pointing between the two of them.

“Hm, yes,” Khail nodded, “I can see the resemblance.”

“What resemblance?” Zalu teased, “We look nothin’ alike. I’m good lookin’ and he ain’t.”

Zami waved a hand dismissively at his brother’s teasing, looking over to Khail.

“By da way, mon, I got some questions about what’cha said earlier.”

“Hm?” Khail paused his stride to look to him, ”Regarding which part?”

“Yeah, mon, who’s da Earthmother?” Zalu interrupted, and Zami pushed his face aside.

“No, not dat,” Zami shook his head, “I was gonna ask, what’s da Cenarion Circle?”

Khail turned to him in full now, expression somewhere between perplexed and amused.

“Surely you know of the druidic Circle?” He chuckled.

Zami shook his head.

“Yeah, mon, even I know about dem,” Zalu nodded, “Dey were actually da ones who saved me from da bear in da Plaguelands after…”

Zalu’s words trailed off as he patted the stub where his leg used to be, his eyes darkening. Khail put his hand under his chin.

“Interesting,” He nodded, “You say your injury was due to a bear?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Zalu nodded, drawn back from his thoughts.

“And you said that it was a bear you became in this vision, as well?”

Zalu nodded again.

“And you became a jungle cat?” Khail looked to Zami, “I suppose I need not ask about your eye, then.”

Zami nodded slowly, instinctively putting his hand to his eye. It was still scabbed over, and he still couldn’t see out of it. He was starting to wonder if he’d ever be able to. Maybe he should’ve just gone to see a healer. The thought had never occurred to him, as he’d always been able to rely upon his regeneration for wounds like this.

“Interesting,” Khail said again, “It seems that perhaps this has been the fated path for the two of you, likely for quite some time now. Be it the wishes of the Earthmother or your Loa.”

“I never believed in dat destiny stuff,” Zalu shrugged, “I think da Loa just like to sit back and laugh at us runnin’ around like fools.”

“Don’t let Zuka hear you say dat,” Zami glanced over at his brother, “She’ll beat you like an old rug.”

“Zuka?” Khail raised a thick eyebrow, “This is your wife?”

“What! No way, mon!” Zalu snorted in amusement, “She’s my cranky sister.”

“Neither of us are married,” Zami added.

“Yeah, because dis old man couldn’t get a woman if he wanted one,” Zalu grinned, elbowing Zami in the ribs.

Khail chuckled in amusement watching the two of them.

“You remind me of how my own brother and I would act as children,” He smiled, “We got along as well as oil and water, yet we were inseparable at the same time.”

“Where’s ya brudda now?” Zalu asked.

“Ah, well…” Khail frowned, “He fell in battle while fighting in assault on Icecrown Citadel.”

“Oh, dats…” Zalu cleared his throat awkwardly, “Sorry, mon.”

Zami glanced aside, trying not to think about his own brothers.

“No, it’s alright. I am proud of my brother’s sacrifice. If not for he and the valiant warriors who fell in Northrend, perhaps we would all be mindless minions of the Scourge right now.”

Khail turned and began to walk again, prompting the brothers to follow him once more.

“Regarding your initial question,” Khail continued, “The Cenarion Circle is an independent group of druids. We pledge allegiance to no faction, and all who follow the path of nature are welcome among us. Yourselves included.”

Khail led them out of the city, down the wooden lift, and through the open prairies. Occasionally, they would pass a plainstrider, mindlessly pecking at the bright green grass. It made Zami think of Zuri, and then his other two brothers as well. It was difficult not to mourn them, but he showed no outward signs of his thoughts.

At last, Khail stopped in an open clearing, although many plainstriders still pecked about in the distance. There was the sound of a river faintly flowing nearby.

“This is where you will train,” Khail explained, setting down his pack.

The brothers blinked at him in confusion.

“Huh? Train? Wha---”

“The truest path of learning the druidic ways is to immerse yourself in nature. Most would study in the Emerald Dream, but you’re not ready for such.”

There was that phrase again. The Goblin life goal. Zami furrowed his brow, supposing now that it must’ve been some kind of place if it was where druids went to study. Perhaps it was a hidden forest or something.

“I will leave you two now, providing you only this single pack. You are free to wander the Red Cloud Mesa, but you will avoid civilization. Use your skills to survive the wild and adapt to living from the land. I will return to you when Mu’sha is full in the sky above. That will be three days.”

“Three days,” Zami nodded, “Got it.”

“Wait a second, mon,” Zalu looked up from examining the pack Khail had placed on the ground, “Dere’s nothin’ in here.”

“Correct,” Khail nodded his head, “You will fill it.”

“Wit what?” Zalu blinked.

“What indeed?” Khail answered elusively, making both brothers cock their heads to the side, “Well then, good luck. I will see you in three days.”

Zami and Zalu looked between each other as Khail departed. Zami himself was no stranger to living off of the wilderness. Stranglethorn had trained him well for this. But he was more concerned for Zalu. His brother could no longer hunt, could barely get around, and wasn’t exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer as it was. He had a feeling he’d be doing a lot of the heavy lifting for these next three days. 

At least it would be good for the training, right?


	12. Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I messed up! I accidentally missed adding Chapter 12, this one! Sorry about that!

Zami ran his hands through his own pack, as Zalu looked through his. He really wished he had his dagger, but alas, it was stuck forever in Sen’jin Village. At least a small part of him got to stay in the Village. Although he’d paid a lot for that knife, he recalled grumpily.

“I got...a couple of bottles of some orc stout, and some linen dat Zuka packed for my leg,” Zalu said as he opened one of the bottles.

Zami wrinkled his nose, smelling the alcohol from the distance between them, and clicked his tongue in annoyance.

“Dat’s all ya brought?” He glanced over, his eyes searing judgement at his brother’s less-than-ideal luggage choices.

The last thing he wanted was a repeat of the incident that happened to Zuri. Especially with all these plainstriders walking around.

“Yeah, mon. What about ya self?” Zalu shrugged, “Ya didn’t have much at da house, so…”

“Well,” Zami looked down to his bag, “I got my skinnin’ knife, some thread, dat pack of salt I bought, a few rolls of linen, a couple skins of water, my fireside pot, a flint, and my fishin’ pole.”

Zalu was silent for a moment then looked over.

“How ya fit a fishin’ pole in dere?” He asked, pointing to Zami’s bag.

“It’s one of dem foldable ones da goblins make. Picked it up in Booty Bay.”

“Ah,” Zalu clicked his tongue, looking aside.

He silently sipped his stout, looking a bit annoyed. Zami reached over and took the bottle from him, looking equally annoyed.

“Hey! What---”

“None of dat,” Zami furrowed his brow, “Dis ain’t da time.”

“It makes my leg feel betta,” Zalu whined.

“It makes ya dehydrated,” Zami scowled back.

Zalu made a face and laid back into the soft green grass, looking up at the late afternoon sky.

“Fine,” He sighed in defeat, “Guess I’ll just stay here and wait for ya to make da fire.”

“Oh no,” Zami shook his head, standing up, “Ya gonna help me hunt.”

“What?” Zalu sat up, “But I can’t. Ya know I didn’t bring my bow.”

Zami though for a moment. Then he reached and took the skinning knife and ball of coarse thread from his bag, holding them up to Zalu.

“So we make one.”

Zalu scoffed, and crossed his arms.

“No way, mon,” He shook his head, “I told ya anyway, it’s time for me to be movin’ on from dat. I’m just a useless cripple now. I can’t do it no more.”

“Oh, sure ya can’t,” Zami rolled his eyes, “Ya can throw a dagger between da eyes from twenty, thirty feet away while in da middle of movin’ around. But oh no, ya can’t just sit dere and fire a bow. Dat’s too hard for ya, I guess.”

Zalu scowled, grumbling under his breath, and crossed his arms tighter over his chest.

“Ya don’t understand,” He mumbled, “Ya don’t know what it be like, losin’ somethin’ of ya self.”

“Oh, ya think?” Zami crouched down next to his brother, “Look at me a second, mon.”

Zalu reluctantly looked over at his brother, who now crouched eye-level with him.

“Ya see dis?” Zami pointed to his scarred eye, “Dis ain’t nothing.”

“Yeah,” Zalu snorted and began to rub his stump leg, “It ain’t nothin’ at all.”

“And dis?” Zami reached out and put his hand over Zalu’s, “Dis ain’t nothin’ neither.”

Zalu frowned, looking away as he batted Zami’s hand off.

“Ya still you, mon. Ya still Zalu,” Zami continued, “And dat ain’t changin’ no matter what. Right?”

Zalu shrugged, dismissing his words, and continued to look away. Then, after a moment, he looked back at Zami and sighed.

“...Yeah,” He mumbled, “Ya right…”

“I know I am,” Zami nodded, standing up, “Now quit dat cryin’ over ya stupid leg. We got work to do, mon.”

Zami extended his hand down to Zalu, who hesitated a moment before taking his hand. Zami pulled Zalu to his feet and they shared a meaningful glance. Zami didn’t truthfully know how much his words really meant, if anything, to Zalu, but it was nice to see something in his eyes other than anger or despair for a change.

“Ya know,” Zalu looked out at the plains, “I been thinkin’ dat maybe we should hold off on the plainstriders for now. Dey ain’t smart birds, but dey sure can run. Faster dan we can, at least.”

Zami nodded.

“So what’s da plan then?”

“Well, I was thinkin’ we could take some of da branched of dose trees there,” Zalu said as he pointed to the nearby pine trees, “Maybe use some of dat string, make us some traps.”

Zami nodded again.

“Plainstriders are pretty dumb, and it ain’t likely they’d escape da traps. Then we could take some extra wood at da same time, for a fire.”

Zami smiled, as Zalu continued to suggest various ideas about what they could do to set up a little encampment for themselves. He talked about heading to the nearby pond with Zami’s cooking pot to get water, and making themselves some makeshift beds out of the linen, and even suggested sharpening his walking stick into a spear. 

It was nice to see Zalu back to his old self again, even if just for a little while. Zalu had always been the most skilled hunter of all their brothers, probably due to benefitting from his older brothers’ wisdom and experiences over the years. Zami had always been jealous of it when they were younger. That’s probably why they weren’t that close as children.

While Zalu was popular among everyone in the family, Zami had always preferred the company of his brother Zoji. The two of them had the most in common. Zoji was a hunter, just like the rest, but he wasn’t interested in taming the beasts of the wild. He was a dedicated marksman, through and through. They had the same mentalities about themselves, when it came to combat. They weren’t just killing to obtain something, they were the weapon themselves. With or without his dagger, Zami was deadly. He knew a great deal about poisons, although it wasn’t something he actively practiced. It was a skill he’d been forced to pick up in Stranglethorn, just to avoid getting himself killed by the local flora.

Zami lowered his gaze, his thoughts returning to Zoji. He couldn’t fathom what it felt like to die alone in a foreign land so far from home. He’d probably had other soldiers with him, but Zami doubted their corpses could’ve provided Zoji with much comfort in his last moments. He wondered how he’d died, and who was responsible. At least with Zuri, there was nobody to blame but himself, and the naga that had taken Zeni had paid with their lives to do so. But for Zoji, who knew?

“Hey, brudda,” Zalu grinned at him, drawing him from his thoughts.

“Oh, huh?” Zami looked over, blinking.

“Ya know, strider meat is fine and all, but how about some boar?”


	13. Found

Zami and Zalu were crouched in the shade of a grassy hill. Down below on the other side of the hill was a small scouting party of quillboar, who were mercilessly slaughtering every plainstrider that they passed.

“So what’s da plan?” Zalu whispered, “I take da two on da left, you take da two on da right?”

Zami looked over at his brother flatly.

“Take ‘em wit what? Ya walkin’ stick and my skinnin’ knife?” He whispered back sarcastically.

Zalu was about to respond when he heard one of the quillboar squeal sharply, like it was giving an order, and the group began to move towards the top of the hill. Silently and swiftly, Zami gripped onto Zalu’s shirt and began to pull him down the side of the hill. They were just out of the quillboar’s path when the leader stopped atop the hill and sniffed the air. Then it squealed again, pointing straight in their direction.

“Dis ain’t gonna be good…” Zalu mumbled under his breath.

There was nowhere left to run. If they even could’ve, considering Zalu’s leg. Zami gritted his teeth, knowing there was only one solution left. But he hated doing it.

“Don’t move,” Zami whispered before holding his breath and putting his hand over Zalu’s mouth.

Zalu blinked at him in confusion but silently obeyed, as Zami continued to hold his breath. He began to stare at one spot on the ground with an intense unbroken gaze, clearing his mind. As the quillboar rounded the hill to where they were, Zalu shut his eyes and Zami continued to focus on the ground.

After looking around a moment, even looking right at them, the quillboar snorted and moved past them to the other side of the hill. Zalu opened his eyes at the sound of their hooven feet moving away. He looked up at Zami with a bewildered, and somewhat awed, expression.

Zami didn’t like stealthing. It felt tingly and kind of itchy, sort of like your foot falling asleep. Except it was your whole body. It was useful to know, he supposed. But he still didn’t like it. He hadn’t had to stealth with others before, but he was glad it worked. Otherwise he’d probably have no brothers left at all.

Zami held a finger to his lips and pulled Zalu up to the top of the hill again, a bit more open in their position now since they didn’t need to worry about being seen. They looked down at the quillboar, who had found both of their packs and were rifling through them. Zami frowned as the quillboar began to eat his salt out of the bag, while Zalu scowled as they began to drink his stout, snorting gleefully as they did so. After they were finished rifling through everything, the quillboar took what they desired and began to make their way back for their own camp.

Once they were out of sight, Zalu rolled forward and slid down the hill, right up to his bag. It was now empty. Zami rolled his eyes as Zalu began to lament his alcohol, and went over to his own bag. Most everything was gone, but at least they’d left the fishing pole. Probably didn’t know what it was, he mused.

“Dey can’t even appreciate da body of dat stout,” Zalu mumbled, pouting at his bag, “Let’s go kill dem or somethin’ so I feel betta.”

“We don’t got time for dat,” Zami said, pointing at the sky, “Night’s gonna fall soon. We gotta make a fire.”

Zami decided to let Zalu stay behind at what was left of their little camp, so that he could collect the wood faster. When he returned to their camp, Zalu had taken a sharp rock and was whittling the end of his cane into a point.

“Gonna drive dis straight through their heads,” He muttered betterly, “Make dem wish dey stole my things.”

Zami rolled his eyes and began to dig a small pit in the dirt with his hands. Then he set up the various stones, twigs, and branches he’d gathered into a circular pit. Next came the tricky part. He’d only had to start a fire without his whetstone once, while he in disguise and burning down a pirate ship belonging to the Southsea Freebooters. But then he’d had gunpowder to work with. Now, all he had were some spry twigs.

First Zami tried rubbing two sticks together in a cross. Then he tried rolling them together. Then he tried rubbing them again. Then he took a break because his hands hurt. And then he tried the rolling tactic again.

Zalu looked over tiredly and flopped back in the grass.

“Ya supposed to make da fireboard first,” He sighed.

Zami blinked.

“A what?”

Zalu sat up, squinting at him.

“How do ya not know? Ya never made a fire before, mon?”

“Well, I always had my tinder,” Zami shrugged, a bit sheepishly.

Zalu sighed and scooted himself over, waving at Zami to move aide.

“Like dis,” He ordered, snatching Zami’s skinning knife.

Zami watched as Zalu began to carve a flat piece out of one of the branches.

“Easy, mon,” Zami looked down, “Be careful wit my knife.”

“It can cut cartilage,” Zalu answered flatly, “A little wood ain’t no trouble.”

Zami sat like a lump, watching Zalu begin to change the fire pit to his liking. Feeling useless just sitting there, he stood up.

“Okay, den,” He nodded, “You work on dat, and I’ll get us somethin’ to eat.”

“We can’t do da traps no more,” Zalu said quickly, “Da quillboar took da string, remember?”

Zami shook his head, reaching into his bag.

“I don’t need no thread for dis,” He smiled and extended his fishing pole, “It comes wit its own.”

“...Still can’t believe ya fit dat thing in ya bag,” Zalu glanced over.

“You gonna be okay if I go fishin’ for a bit?”

Zalu held up his cane, the end of which was now sharpened into a spearhead, before returning to working on the fire.

“Catch somethin’ good, mon.”


	14. In The Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zami meets Elune, probably?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this whole chapter listening to the “Song of Elune” track from the World of Warcraft OST on loop. I strongly recommend listening to it while you read this. It adds great atmosphere! That’s not a spoiler, is it?

Zami sat crouched at the edge of the lake, fishing pole cast out over the dark water. The sky was a dark blue now, so deep that it put Stranglethorn’s night sky to shame. The white light of the nearly-full moon cast down over the water. His bag was now almost full with stacks of raw fish, and he was about ready to call it a night when he heard the sound of a woman’s laughter. He looked around in confusion, expecting there to be a woman somewhere on the shoreline. But there was no one. Shrugging, he looked down at the water and nearly jumped out of his skin, falling over back into the grass.

Either he was crazy, or there was a woman inside of the water. She wasn’t merely swimming in it. She was a part of the water, as though she only existed in a reflection. Zami blinked, rubbing his eye. He looked again, and still she was there.

Her long silver hair was spread out in a circle around her, waving with the flow of the water. It was hard to make out the details, as the image rippled with the water and was almost painfully bright to look straight at her. Almost like trying to stare at the sun, yet through water.

Zami looked around again, wishing that there was someone else around to say that they saw this...whatever it was, too. That way he’d know he wasn’t just hallucinating or something. When he did so, the water woman laughed again. Zami stopped short, glancing over at the water once more. The water woman blinked back, with eyes as white as the rest of her, barely discernible from the rest of her stark white features. Zami furrowed his brow. Was she...staring at him?

Sitting up onto his knees, Zami leaned over the water. Well, it could laugh, so he figured it could talk too. Whatever it was.

“Uh,” He began with a charming start, “Are...Are you...real?”

The water woman nodded. Zami rubbed his eye again, just wanting to be doubly sure that this wasn’t his imagination. He even pinched himself to make sure he hadn’t fallen asleep.

“Who, um...Who are you?” He asked tentatively, almost unsure if he even wanted to know at all.

The water woman pointed up towards the sky. Zami looked up, expecting there to be...something. Instead, there was only the empty sky full of stars and a few distant wisps of clouds. When he looked back down again, the water woman was gone. Only the reflection of the moon remained where she had once been.

Zami sat back, blinking. He wasn’t really sure what had just happened. Maybe that had something to do with that Earthmother thing, whatever that was? Like most things that he didn’t understand, Zami decided it was probably best to just ignore it. He folded up his fishing rod and stood up, putting his pack full of fish over his shoulder. As he turned to leave, he glanced once more at the water. It was calm and still, and shown only the silvery image of the moon. Shaking the thoughts from his head, he returned to the little camp.

Zalu had the fire already crackling when he arrived, and Zami set down his pack next to it. As he began to silently one-by-one set the fish by the fire’s edge, Zalu said something or other. Zami wasn’t really listening, too entrenched in his thoughts.

“Zami?” Zalu waved his hand in front of his brother’s face, “Anybody there?”

Zami blinked a few times, looking over, as though broken from a trance.

“Huh? What’cha say, mon?” He asked innocently.

“I said, ya sure its a good idea to cook everythin’ at once?”

“Oh...Yeah. Raw rots faster, ya know?”

Zalu nodded, glancing down for a moment, then he looked back up.

“Hey, mon...you doin’ okay?” He furrowed his brow, “Ya seem kinda...out of it, ya know what I mean?”

“Oh, yeah...sorry,” Zami blinked a few times, once more trying to shake the thoughts from his head, “It’s just dat I saw…nah, nevermind.”

“No, what?” Zalu patted arm, “What’cha see?”

“Probably just spent too long starin’ at the water, is all,” Zami shrugged, “Made me see things.”

“What things?” Zalu asked again, a bit more impatiently.

Zami shrugged again, unsure how to even put into words what he’d seen. Maybe seen. He still wasn’t quite sure if it all actually happened or not.

“Just tell me already,” Zalu grumbled, folding his arms across his chest.

“Ya won’t believe me, but I…” Zami knitted his brow, “I saw a...a woman?”

Zalu’s expression went flat and he snorted air from his nose.

“By da Loa, mon. Ya know I was jokin’ before when I said ya would never get ya self a woman, right? Ya don’t need to act like they be mythical creatures, like ya ain’t never seen one up close before.”

Zami shook his head.

“No, I mean, she weren’t like a real woman. She was more like...a reflection.”

“A reflection?” Zalu quirked an eyebrow.

“In da water. She was laughin’ at me.”

“Okay, now dat part, I can believe.”

“She was all silvery and bright, and den she turned into da moon...I think?”

Zalu blinked a few times.

“...Maybe it’s just ya haven’t eaten somethin’ in a while,” He said, before shoving a fried fish into Zami’s mouth, “Eat dis. Ya feel betta.”

Zami took the fish out of his mouth. He wanted to protest but stopped himself. Maybe Zalu was right. No, he was definitely right. He’d even been there, and he wasn’t sure that it actually happened. Slowly, he nodded, and began to eat the fried fish.

“And when ya done dat, you get some sleep, mon,” Zalu nodded a few times, “I’ll take da first watch, okay? Ya clearly pretty tired.”

Zami didn’t protest. He really was pretty tired. He certainly had to be to see crazy stuff like this, right?


	15. Seer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a really tough time with this chapter. I had a very specific and plot-critical idea I wanted to portray, and I had a hard time getting it into words. I ended up rewriting this four or five times, and I didn’t end up getting a version that I was happy with until really late at night.

The second day was a lot easier than the first one. They’d gotten a little bit more acclimated to living in the wilderness, and the quillboar didn’t bother them again. Probably because it started to rain early in the morning.

“Great,” Zalu huffed, looking sourly at the drenched fire pit, “Now what we s’posta do? Da camp’s ruined!”

Zami didn’t mind the rain all that much, however. It rained a lot in Stranglethorn and he’d gotten pretty used to it by now. But while Stranglethorn’s rain was always hot and humid, the rain of Mulgore was cold and crisp. It sent a shiver down his spine, and he sneezed more than once. As Zami stood reminiscing in silence, his brother snapped his fingers in front of his face, drawing him back from his thoughts.

“Hey, mon,” Zalu flipped his heavy dreadlocks out of his face, “Let’s get outta dis rain, yeah?”

Zami nodded and said, “Let’s find a cave or somethin’ nearby.”

The rain only grew heavier, and began to blur the air with a white sheen. Zami squinted, trying to look out for a suitable shelter, but he couldn’t see very far. Cold, fat raindrops began to pelt against his skin painfully. Behind him, Zalu sneezed and the cane slid out from under him. The sharpened edge of the cane managed to slide into the drenched, muddy soil. It kept Zalu from falling down to the ground, though he lurched over.

“Hey look,” Zami pointed ahead, “I see a cave up dere. Let’s check it out.”

The cave was small and smelled musty, but it was dry. That was all that mattered. Zalu flopped tiredly against the ground, setting down his muddy cane tiredly. Zami, meanwhile, crouched by the entrance of the cave. He held his hands out and gathered some of the rain in his hands, taking a sip. It tasted like moss and had the grit of dirt against his teeth, but it was refreshing all the same. He wished he still had his waterskins, but those were long gone with the quilboar by now. Zalu, seeming to have a similar idea, scooted over to the mouth of the cave and began to gather a handful of water too. 

Zami stood up and began to squeeze the water out of his fiery red hair. He glanced over at Zalu, whose thick dreadlocks still hung low around his shoulders, heavy with rainwater. Zami had always thought it strange, his red hair. Zuka, Zalu, and all the rest had their mother’s dark blue hair. Only he had inherited his father’s bright red hair. In truth, he wished he hadn’t. That was probably why he’d always shaved his head when he was younger, even though the look wasn’t flattering for him, especially considering his rather large nose. It made him look almost like a very tall blue goblin. He hadn’t bothered with shaving it after he left the employ of the Steamwheedle Cartel, and had even taken to styling it. Sort of. As much as he could be bothered to, anyway.

“When ya think the rain’s gonna let up?” Zalu asked.

“Oh, I dunno,” Zami shrugged, “It was pretty clear last night, I remember dat. Prolly just a quick passin’ storm.”

Unfortunately for Zami, he couldn’t have been more wrong. Hour after hour passed, and the rain never let up once. In fact, it even seemed to come down harder. The brothers did what they could to pass the time, considering they didn’t have much. Zalu took the easy way out, and decided to take a short nap. At least it kept him quiet, Zami thought. 

There wasn’t a whole lot for Zami to do, so he decided to just sit and think. He crouched again by the mouth of the cave and stared out to the rain-soaked plains. His thoughts wandered, slowly recounting how much had happened within the last few days. It was enough to make his head spin when he thought about it all. Only a month ago, his life was the usual routine he’d had for years of stalking the Stranglethorn jungle all day, searching for Jumi. 

Then within the past week, he’d crossed the ocean, met his 10-year-old niece for the first time, learned that most of his siblings were dead, been banished from his home as an accomplice to murdering a child, flown to Mulgore on the back of a wind rider, saw a moon lady in the water, and apparently become a druid-in-training. It was a lot to take in.

At least this was familiar, Zami thought as he leaned back on his haunches. There was something comforting about having a mundane moment like this in the midst of all the madness that was happening to him lately. Something peaceful about it, like he could finally breathe again. It wasn’t like he’d asked for any of this nonsense to happen to him in the first place. He’d never asked for Gonk’s attention, and he’d never offered himself up to be a part of the Great Hunter’s plans. It wasn’t like he’d gained his favor, either, Zami thought bitterly as he brought a hand to his scabbed right eye on instinct.

Suddenly, his hand felt wet and his eye began to itch terribly.

“What’s dis now…” Zami mumbled as he moved his hand away from his eye and looked down.

He went pale, seeing his hand was drenched in blood. His own blood. Zami quickly brought his hand back up to his face, feeling the thick, hot blood dripping down across his cheek. He quickly stuck his head out the mouth of the cave, letting the rain wash the blood off of his face. Maybe he’d somehow reopened the wound, he thought, as he smeared the blood away with his hand. 

As he looked down at his hand to ensure the blood had been washed away, his wounded eye began to itch again. Seeing as he was already bleeding and it could do no harm at this point, Zami rubbed his eye with his hand again. He felt the thick scab that had formed come loose and fall away with the rain. Cursing under his breath, Zami leaned back inside of the cave.

He knew it was a terrible idea, but his curiosity was overwhelming. Tentatively, Zami opened his wounded eye, which had previously been sealed closed by the scab. Everything was white, at first. Then his eye adjusted to the light, his vision began to return.

Then he realized that it wasn’t raining to his right eye.

Though his newly-healed eye, he saw the plains differently. There was no rain, and no signs of the tauren village in the distance. There was no bridge over the lake, and the golden grass grew tall. Nearly waist high, he figured. It began to sway gently in a soft breeze that didn’t match what he saw in his left eye, where the rain pelted the grass down and whipped it wildly. 

The mixed images were giving him a headache, so Zami put his hand over his left eye. That way, he would only see whatever his newly-healed eye was showing him. His first thought was that it looked so peaceful, so sunny. If not for the sound of the rain in his ears and the smell of the wet soil in his nose, he would’ve believed it was a bright and sunny day. 

The second thing he noted about what he saw was that everything had a faint green tint to it. He wanted to just dismiss it as a symptom of his eye being recently-healed, but he knew that wasn’t true. He knew because he’d lost his vision once before, years ago, while on a job for the goblins. It had healed almost instantly back then, and there had been nothing like this. No scab, no tint. Just his regular old vision. This, though...this was something else.

“Hey,” Zalu yawned, sitting up, “I’m awake. How long was I out?”

Zami shrugged, not looking towards him. He heard Zalu scoot himself over next to him and bit his lip. He really hoped his face wasn’t still covered in blood. Slowly, he looked over at his brother

“Hey! Ya scab’s gone. Ya eye healed?” Zalu smiled.

“Yeah,” Zami nodded slowly, “Well, I think so…”

“Huh,” Zalu blinked at him, “Dat’s weird…”

“What?” Zami cocked his head, “What’s weird?”

“Ya eye…” Zalu pointed, “It’s…”

“It’s what?” Zami asked quickly, nervously, “What’s wrong wit it?”

“Nothin’ wrong wit it,” Zalu shook his head, “It’s just dat it’s...”

“It’s what?”

“Well, it’s...green.”

Zami knitted his brow. He was pretty sure his eyes were red. Like a normal troll. He’d never even seen a troll with green eyes before. How was that even possible? Could it just grow back a different color, or something? Was that normal? Was it why his vision was all messed up and had that green tint now? The possibilities were making him worried. Apparently, his anxiety shown on his face because Zalu laughed, patting his shoulder.

“Relax, mon. Green looks good on ya.”


	16. Stolen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided to do a flyby over Mulgore earlier today in WoW, and it came to my attention that the Red Cloud Mesa wasn’t at all near where I thought it was. I must’ve been confusing it with Red Rock or something. Regardless, I need to retcon what I said before about this taking place near Red Cloud Mesa. It’s actually a short ways north of Stonebull Lake, clinging more towards the eastern side of the canyon walls. Sorry again for the confusion!
> 
> Also, please re-read from Chapter 12 onwards! I accidentally forgot to add Chapter 12 before!

Zami kept closing his right eye so many times, that he was sure Zalu must’ve thought he was winking at him.

“Quit playin’ wit it, mon,” Zalu clicked his tongue, “Ya gonna make ya self go stupid or somethin’ like that.”

“Too bad it ain’t ya own eye, den,” Zami glanced over, “You wouldn’t need to worry one bit.”

Dusk had fallen by the time the rain stopped, and they’d returned to their old camp to try and salvage the fire pit. Zalu was seated in the mud next to the pit, doing whatever he could with the wet wood. Zami, meanwhile, was crouched nearby, fiddling with and rubbing his eye.

It still wasn’t working right, but he didn’t want to tell Zalu about it. No need to make him worried. Besides, maybe his eye was still healing. The scab wouldn’t have come off if he hadn’t been messing with it, right? So he shouldn’t even have been using it yet. That was the logic he’d committed to by this point, whether it actually made sense or not. Either way, he was eager to ask Khail about it. Maybe it was normal. Maybe this sort of thing happened to druids all the time. He had no idea, he’d never really even met a druid before yesterday. Let alone been one. Maybe all druids had this sort of thing happen. Although, if that was the case, he was expecting Zalu to suddenly sprout a green leg any time now.

Alas, he had one more day to wait before this strange little trek through the wilderness was over. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to learn from this whole ordeal that he hadn’t already learned in Stranglethorn. That quillboar are thieves, maybe? Regardless, when this was over, he could finally ask Khail all of the questions he was dying to know the answers to, like what the deal was with that lady in the water and what was going on with his eye.

“Well, it looks like da fire pit is useless now,” Zalu scoffed, knocking it over, “What a waste of time dat was.”

“Ah, don’t worry, mon,” Zami shrugged, “We’ll think of somethin’ else.”

Zalu furrowed his brow for a moment, thinking, when he glanced over the hill. He could see firelight into the distance, dancing against the dark blue sky. Then he sharply turned his head towards Zami, his eyes wide.

“I got it!” He nodded his head, “Da quillboar.”

“Huh?” Zami poked himself in the eye, “What about dem, mon?”

“Dey have fire, and food, and all our things dey stole.”

“Well, yeah I guess, but---”

“Ya can go invisible again!” Zalu smiled, “Like you did before! They’ll never see you!”

Zami scowled and looked over, shaking his head firmly.

“Oh no, mon. No way. I ain’t doin’ dat. No how.”

And yet as Zami crept silently towards the quillboar camp, fully stealthed, he silently cursed his brother’s skill of persuasion. He’d decided to keep his right eye closed, as it was giving him a headache again. The first quillboar he passed were something like scouts, the same as the ones he’d seen before. There were five of them, with another one patrolling around the perimeter of the camp. They had a little fire pit, but it was surrounded on all sides by the quillboar. It was too enclosed for Zami to do anything with, so he decided to press on.

It was easy finding his way to their den, because the quillboar had set up a line of scout camps leading right back to it. As Zami stepped inside of their little home cave, he immediately wished he’d been born with a smaller nose. It stank of sweaty hog and rotten meat, both smells he was a bit familiar with thanks to growing up in Durotar. He wrinkled his nose, but kept going deeper into the cave. 

The quillboar would often squeal and smack each other around. It was just like his own family, Zalu mused in amusement. The only difference is the larger ones would do most of the smacking to the little ones. Their power hierarchy seemed to be based around size, he noted. Despite being the oldest and tallest of his siblings, Zami had quite little power in his family. Apparently, he was too old now to have his own children, so that left Zalu as the last viable male for the bloodline. Apparently.

Of course, nobody had so much authority as his mother, even living so far away from the rest of them. She was one of those rare trolls who had lived for a long time, currently pushing 50 years old. When all of her children had grown and her second-husband Tanri had finally died, she passed the house on to Zuka and disappeared into the wilderness. Last Zami had heard, she’d joined up with the Darkmoon Faire.

One of the quillboar stopped short, sniffing so close to Zami’s face that he could feel the hot air from its snout. That snapped him out of reminiscing. He slid away quickly, clinging against the wall. Even the wall of this cave was disgusting, he noticed with a cringe. It had a filmy cover like mucus. It stuck to his hands and was overall unpleasant to be pressed against. He was grateful when the quillboar decided to continue on its way, allowing him to peel himself away from the wall.

He paused to wipe his hands on his pant leg, before something shiny caught his eye. He looked over, seeing it was some kind of silver statue, an idol or something. It was dirty and overturned onto its side. Clearly, the quillboar didn’t much respect their gods, he thought as he approached the statue. That’s when he noticed it depicted an elf. She was holding up a bowl or something. He rolled his eye. Elves were so weird.

The statue was sitting off to the side of a larger pile of various things, treasures and trash alike. Zami figured it must’ve been a collection of things the quillboar had stolen over the years. He crouched down next to it and carefully began to examine the pile. It wasn’t too hard to find the things they’d lost, considering they were right on the top. Carefully, while still stealthed, he began to put the items into the pack on his back. When they entered the bag, they disappeared from view. After getting all of their things back, Zami went to close the bag but paused. He glanced over a moment before reaching out and taking the silver idol, placing it into his bag. Then he closed the pack and stood up.

Getting out of the cave was a relief, especially to his nose. He welcomed the fresh air eagerly, glad to be out of that dank cave. Zami followed the train of scout camps all the way back, continuing on to the familiar hill.

“Hey Zalu,” Zami said as he rounded the hill, “Check out dis weird thing I found in...huh? Zalu?”

Zami looked around, seeing his brother was nowhere nearby. He took a step forward and heard a crack. Looking down, he saw Zalu’s walking stick in the mud. Now snapped into thirds, having already been broken in half. Zami quickly crouched down, picking up a piece of the stick. That’s when he noticed the deep gouges and streaks in the mud. It looked like there had been a struggle of some kind. 

If he wasn’t already on high alert, that definitely would’ve thrown him over the edge. Zalu was gone, and clearly someone had taken him. Against his will. And that meant Zami had to find him, and get him back. But how? He looked down, rubbing his face with his hands. That’s when he noticed his first, and only, lead.

Now, Zami was no tracker. But he was willing to bet that he could follow the footsteps in the mud.


	17. Unkown Enemies

Zami followed the tracks in the mud for at least an hour, before coming upon the fringes of a tauren camp to the far north. This camp looked different than the others, he noted to himself. The tauren did, too. There wasn’t a variety of different fur colors and patterns, as he’d seen in Thunder Bluff. All of these tauren only had black fur, and black hair, and seemingly black eyes. Some of their faces and bodies were painted with red or white.

Zami spotted Zalu seated on the ground, tied to a wooden pole. Several of the black tauren stood by him, guarding the entrance to the camp. To Zami’s relief, Zalu didn’t have any noticeable wounds. It’s possible he might have already healed, he supposed, but he more or less looked unscathed. Like he’d never been injured to begin with. 

Zami melded himself into the shadows, becoming stealthed, and crept towards the camp. From between the planks of the camp’s roughshod wooden fence, he looked inside and listened to the conversation of the tauren guards who stood watch by the gate. His expression quickly fell flat as he realized they weren’t speaking Orcish, but some other language. Probably whatever it was the tauren normally spoke.

Suddenly, one of the tauren approached Zalu and crouched down in front of him. His little feather headdress suggested he was probably the leader of these tauren.

“We mean you no harm,” The leader said in Orcish, “But your capture was necessary.”

“What’cha talkin’ about?” Zalu furrowed his brow, “I ain’t even s’posta be here, mon. Just lemme go and we’ll call it even, huh? My brudda’s prolly already lookin’ for me, so---”

“Let him come,” The tauren stood up, “When we obtain both brothers, the elves will pay well.”

“Huh? Elves?” Zalu blinked, “What elves, mon? I don’t know no elves!”

The tauren leader ignored him and extended a hand towards one of the guards.

“Keep on alert for the brother, and watch this one. His power may yet reveal itself, if we are not cautious.”

Zami crouched down, knitting his brow in confusion. He had just as many questions as Zalu, yet he suspected he would likely get no more of an answer than he had. Not without a little persuasion, at least. Silently, he crept forward past the gate, careful not to alert the guards. Then he quickly made his way over next to Zalu.

“Hey, Zalu,” He whispered from next to him, “It’s me, Zami. Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

His words were in Zandali rather than Orcish, just to be safe. He was much more fluent in his native tongue and thus didn’t speak as roughly, his accent blending seamlessly into the sound of the language.

“Zami?” Zalu looked around, responding in Zandali, “Where are y---Oh yeah...”

“Shh, not so loud. Someone might hear.”

“Not like they could understand anyway. And I’m fine, but what’s the plan?” Zalu whispered tentatively, “I hope you have one, because I can’t walk right now. They broke my cane.”

“I saw,” Zami nodded, “Don’t worry about that. We’ll get you a nicer one in Thunder Bluff, okay?”

“You’d better. I’m holding you to that.”

One of the tauren guards suddenly approached Zalu, squinting at him suspiciously. He looked back as innocently as he could.

“Who are you talking to?” The tauren asked, though it sounded more like an order.

“Nobody,” Zalu shrugged, speaking again in Orcish.

“I saw you speaking.”

“Oh! Dat! Yeah, I was...uhh...just prayin’ to da Loa!”

“Is that so?” The tauren crossed his arms.

“Yep! Uh, I was just sayin’ dat, um...ya know, oh great and powerful...Bwonsamdi! I, Zalu, a humble troll, ask of ya! I ask ya...give dese tauren here ya blessing!”

Zami invisibly perked an eyebrow as Zalu called upon the Loa of death. Kinda theatrically, too. He hoped that wouldn’t upset the Great Spirit with that, but there wasn’t time to worry about that now. He could only hope that Gonk’s plans would give Bwonsamdi pause. For now, at least. All go to him eventually, that was true, but Zami was more concerned about either of them going to the Other Side tonight.

“Alright, alright,” The tauren turned away, waving a hand dismissively, “You may pray, I suppose. Just do it quietly.”

“That was really annoying,” Zalu clicked his tongue, returning to speaking Zandali, “Good thing these tauren seem to be pretty gullible.”

He spoke like he was still chanting, so the tauren wouldn’t be any the wiser.

“Okay, now you’re just playing around,” Zami whispered, “While you...do that, I’m going to see if I can find that leader we saw before. I have some questions for him. Then I’ll return and untie you, then we can stealth out of the camp. Okay?”

“Sounds good,” Zalu nodded, “But be careful, okay? I have a bad feeling about that tauren.”

Zami nodded and slowly crept away from his brother, who began to chant nonsense in Zandali in order to keep up the ruse. Finding the tauren leader’s tent wasn’t too difficult. Why leaders always insisted on having the biggest tent, making them an obvious target, was beyond him. Maybe it was just because he’d always placed so much emphasis on blending in and disappearing from plain sight. The tauren, on the other hand, were supposed to be a lot like the orcs in that they valued wisdom and honor. But how was attacking and kidnapping his crippled brother honorable?

The tauren leader was crouched on the ground, next to a large wooden bowl. He was adding various powders and plants to the bowl. Zami perked a brow curiously, finding it oddly similar to the practices of the witch doctors back in Sen’jin Village. Suddenly, the tauren dropped a spiny green vine in, and a large blue flame erupted from the bowl. The flames licked wildly in all directions, and it nearly reached the top of the tent before lowering, coming to a stable calm. 

That’s when a vision began to appear in the flames. Zami squinted, ducking behind a large chest near the entrance of the tent. He peeked over the top of the box, his left eye looking closely while the right remained closed. The flames showed a forest, though it was tinted blue. Then, suddenly, a figure appeared. It was a night elf. The color was all masked by blue, of course, but it didn’t mask the disdain visible in the elf’s eyes.

“What is it, tauren?” The night elf snapped, speaking Orcish, “I’m terribly busy. This had better be important.”

“We’ve captured one of the trolls,” The tauren leader responded, “The one with the missing leg.”

“Only one?!” The night elf hissed, “The vision shown two! Explain yourself, captain!”

The tauren leader cleared his throat nervously, clearly intimidated by this cranky little elf.

“We sent spies among Thunder Bluff, keeping a watch on Kym Wildmane. She trains the new druids. You were correct, and soon they sought her out. But we had some...interference, from the Cenarion Circle.”

“Oh?” The night elf scowled, “What sort of interference, pray tell?”

“Khail Mountainwalker.”

“One of their best? Hmph. They must be aware of these trolls’ value.”

“But we were lucky. Khail sent them to the wilderness to receive a vision quest. It’s an important part of the process, in order to connect with the Earthmo---”

“Yes, yes,” The night elf cut him off, “I know what it means. Continue, captain. My patience grows thin.”

“They set up a camp, and we planned to ambush them while they slept. But the older brother was missing on the first night. We searched the plains for any sight of him, but there was nothing. So we waited until the second night. But, again, the elder brother was gone. Yet the younger remained, so we took him.”

“Hmph. Has his power emerged yet?”

“Not that we can tell. We’re waiting for the brother to attempt rescue. We’ll capture him then.”

“You had best, or the Grimtotem shall not be rewarded.”

“Yes, I know. We shall not fail you.”

“Good,” The night elf narrowed her eyes, “Because the Emerald Coven will not tolerate failure.”

Zami blinked, knitting his brow. The Emerald...Coven? He just knew that had to be related to the Emerald Dream. Even if he still really had no idea what that even was, and he had no idea how they fit together. His questions for Khail were only mounting. Zami stood up, about to turn for the exit, when the night elf’s eyes snapped to him.

“Captain!” She said through gritted teeth, barely able to contain her anger, “You have company.”

The tauren leader turned around, looking straight through Zami with confusion. Meanwhile, Zami leapt back towards the entrance of the tent.

“He’s right in front of your face, you fool! Don’t let him escape!” The night elf shouted from the flames, her voice crackling with the fire as it began to flicker.

The tauren captain, going in completely blind, raised his warhammer and swung fiercely at the air. Zami dove to the ground to avoid the blow, landing on his back against the dirt. 

“Don’t kill him, you fool! We need him alive!” The night elf cried.

The tauren’s already-swung hammer slammed into the side of the tent, snapping one of the wooden support beams. It put the whole tent off balance and the thick skins of the walls began to collapse onto him. 

Zami scooted back out of the entrance as the smell of smoke met his nose. Looking up, he realized the tent had collapsed onto the fire and the blue flame was running out across the walls, taking to the dried skins like a wolf to a deer. The burning skins had dropped down onto the tauren leader, who was trying desperately to pull himself from under the weight of the collapsed tent, to no avail.

The tauren guards saw what was happening and hurried over to wrench their leader free of the burning debris, nearly trampling Zami in the process. He barely managed to roll off to the side in time before scrambling to his feet. He ran over to Zalu, taking the skinning knife from his old dagger’s holster at his hip, slashing at the ropes that held Zalu. Then he hoisted his brother up, slinging his arm over his shoulder to support him in place of his cane.

“Ain’t settin’ a fire a bit extreme?” Zalu chuckled, speaking Orcish still.

“She saw me, mon! How’d she see me! Ain’t nobody can see me when I’m stealthed!” Zami shook his head, so caught up in his own thoughts that he barely heard his brother.

“Huh? What’cha talkin’ about? Who saw ya?”

“Dat elf!”

“What elf? Why’s everybody talkin’ about elves?”

“Da elf who was lookin’ for us! From dis Emerald Coven thing!”

“Da what now? What’s dat?”

“How should I know!” Zami hissed, dragging Zalu away from the camp.

His stealth had extended to his brother, and they disappeared off into the dark night as thick black smoke filled the air.


	18. Answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn’t post this yesterday and it took so long to get out! My writer’s block was hitting me pretty bad. Just sleeping on it really helped, but I still struggled with finishing this one.

Zami wasn’t going back to the wilderness, not after this. He was going straight to find Khail. He’d done nothing but gather questions over the last few days, and now wanted answers. It took a while to help Zalu walk without his cane, and it was dawn by the time they arrived in Thunder Bluff. Both brothers were exhausted after the long night’s ordeal. But even so, they pushed on.

The Elder Rise was much easier to find this time, now that Zami knew where it was. Kym Wildmane was in the same place she had been before, although Khail was no longer by her side. The brothers went over to her, all the patience between the two of them visibly gone.

“Where’s Khail?” Zami asked bluntly.

“He’s speaking with Hamuul Runetotem, the Archdruid. Why? Is something wrong?”

“You could say dat!” Zalu spat.

Kym looked a bit anxious, perhaps not having expected to be dealing with two angry trolls at this early hour of the morning.

“Well, he should be back in a few moments. You are free to...wait.”

And wait they did. That is, after going to the weapon vendors and buying Zalu a new walking stick, in the form of a quarterstaff. Zami decided to buy himself a new dagger, as well. It wasn’t anywhere near the quality of the one he’d lost, but it would do for now. Better than a skinning knife, at the least. 

Certainly the most notable purchase, however, was from the armorer; a black leather eye patch. Zami set it over his right eye, immediately pleased as his green vision faded to darkness underneath the shadow of the leather. Yes, he thought, this would do well.

When they returned to the Elder Rise, they saw Khail had already come back and was talking with Kym.

“Ya got some explainin’ to do, mon!” Zalu hissed as they approached.

“Ah, Zalu, Zami. You’ve returned early. Your training doesn’t commence until toni---”

“Screw da training,” Zami shrugged, “My brudda was kidnapped last night.”

Khail paused, blinking for a moment. Then he turned to them.

“Kidnapped? What do you mean?”

“What else can da word mean? Some tauren came and took him, den brought him back to their camp up north.”

Khail and Kym exchanged knowing glances.

“The Grimtotem,” They said in unison.

“Yeah, dat’s what I heard,” Zami shrugged, “Who are dese guys? Why’d dey take Zalu? And what’s da connection to da elves? Who are da elves? And who’s dat moon lady? And what’s wrong wit my eye?”

Khail blinked as he was barraged by Zami’s many, many questions at once. He held up his hands defensively.

“Please. I may only answer one thing at a time, I am afraid. But regarding your first question, the answer is long and somewhat complicated.”

“Well, let’s hear it den,” Zalu squinted, “We got da time.”

Khail nodded, and began to explain.

“The Grimtotem are a clan of tauren that used to live alongside us here in Thunder Bluff. But they were recently exiled after their leader, Magatha Grimtotem, was found to have betrayed our high chieftain, Cairne Bloodhoof, and directly caused his death. May he walk with the ancestors. When our high chieftain fell, the Grimtotem then attempted to capture the city, but we were able to retake it shortly after.”

Zami and Zalu blinked at Khail for a moment, seeming to slowly register what he had said.

“So,” Zalu cocked his head to the side, “They’re...ya enemies?”

“Well,” Khail put a hand on his chin, “That is perhaps a blanket statement, but I suppose you could say that. If that helps you to better understand.”

“But why’d dey kidnap Zalu?” Zami asked slowly, paying careful attention to Khail’s response.

As he had expected, Khail hesitated for a moment at first.

“The Grimtotem? They surely only thought you a trespasser, nothing more.”

Zami scowled, now knowing for certain that the tauren was hiding something from them.

“But I weren’t nowhere near dem,” Zalu shrugged.

“Well,” Khail cleared his throat, “Perhaps...the sight of a troll made them nervous.”

“Nah,” Zami squinted his visible eye, “Ya lyin’ now.”

Khail turned over to him, raising his thick black eyebrows in surprise.

“Excuse me? What are you implying? That I was somehow involved in this matter?”

Zami shrugged, looking aside. In truth, he had no idea how Khail played a part in it all. After thinking about it a moment, he recalled that the night elf in the flames hadn’t been all that fond of Khail, from hearing his name. Nor the Cenarion Circle, for that matter. He supposed that was enough to exonerate the tauren, if barely.

“No,” Zami looked back to Khail, “I know ya ain’t.”

Zalu, who hadn’t yet been brought up to speed, blinked cluelessly beside him.

“Because of da elf, right?” He asked, clearly out of the loop.

Zami nodding, noting the glint of concern in Khail’s face.

“Elf?” He asked slowly, “What elf?”

Zalu shrugged.

“Some bossy night elf lady,” Zami explained, “Da tauren in charge was talkin’ wit her through some blue fire. Zalu didn’t see. Sounded like da tauren was gettin’ paid for capturin’ my brudda and me.”

Khail furrowed his brow in concern.

“Oh, and da elf. She mentioned somethin’ called da Emerald Coven?”

Khail sighed, nodding as soon as Zami said that name.

“That...makes an unfortunate amount of sense.”

“Who is she, da elf?”

“I’m sorry, I did not consider that they might have infiltrated Mulgore by means of the Grimtotem.”

“Dey who?” Zalu blinked, still a few steps behind everyone else.

“The Emerald Coven, a group of defectors from the Cenarion Circle,” Khail explained, “They strongly opposed the recent induction of the worgen to the Circle, feeling their nature was an insult to the druidic path. All of the defectors were night elves, believing they were the only ones who could uphold the doctrines of Cenarius.”

“Okay, but why are dey after me and Zalu?”

“Well, you see,” Khail began, “I am not privy to all of the details. Keeper Remulos would be able to explain the matter in full, however he isn’t exactly---”

“Will ya take us to him?” Zami interrupted.

“In Moonglade?” 

Khail paused a moment, and then nodded.

“Very well. I suppose you are owed some answers.”


	19. Nighthaven

To Zami’s private delight, there would be no flying involved in getting to Moonglade. Instead, Khail extended his hands to both brothers and a tingling feeling overtook them. Zami wrinkled his nose, smelling a metallic scent almost like blood, yet not quite. Then, in the blink of an eye, they were elsewhere. The bright grass and blue skies of Mulgore suddenly and at once became dusky purple skies and dark foliage of a thick forest. 

“What...what just happened?” Zalu blinked and looked around, disoriented.

“I teleported us all to Moonglade,” Khail explained, “You will be able to do such yourselves when you are further into your druidic training. All learned druids have a natural connection to Moonglade.”

This place was like nothing Zami had ever seen before. The very air itself sparkled with faint glimmers of an ancient magic, the same sort that grew in the grass and swayed the trees. In many ways, Zami felt like an intruder upon this ancient, secret grove. Like he wasn’t supposed to be here, and that the elder majesty of Moonglade wasn’t meant for his unworthy troll eye. The quizzical looks of Moonglade’s nearby, mostly elven, inhabitants that didn’t help either. Yet, at the same time, despite it all, he felt the opposite. Like this was, somehow, exactly where he was supposed to be right now.

“Look, mon,” Zalu whispered, “Dere’s a Loa!”

Zami looked to where his brother pointed, seeing a bright blue wisp float by. He noted that there were many other wisps around, too.

“Dey be all over da place,” Zami said with a nod, “Dis must be a blessed place.”

Khail chuckled, looking at the two of them.

“Indeed. The Lord of the Forest, Cenarius himself, has walked these hallowed grounds. However, he now leaves such duties to his son, Keeper Remulos.”

“Dat’s da guy we’re gonna see, yeah?” Zalu asked, trying to make sure he stayed in the loop this time.

Khail nodded, as he continued to lead them along a path in the verdant green forest. Zami could see a large pond in the distance, and a village beyond that. By the looks of it, the village seemed to be a night elf one, were the construction anything to go by. But as they approached the village, Zami could see many tauren walking about, calmly conversing with the night elves. If that weren’t strange enough, various little humans, the worgen surely, walked about between the others. It was disconcerting to see so many different races from the different factions gathered without the presence of a goblin nearby, trying to capitalize on the lot of them.

Khail led them into the village, earning the troll brothers more than a few stares.

“Welcome to Nighthaven,” Khail gestured around, “I shall speak to the Archdruids, and arrange for your meeting with Keeper Remulos. In the meantime, you should perhaps stay at the inn. And out of sight.”

Khail showed the brothers to the inn, bringing them over to a male night elf who was leaning against the counter.

“Dargon,” Khail greeted the night elf, before speaking in a language that Zami didn’t understand.

He and Zalu watched cluelessly as Khail gestured to them, conversing with the night elf in the foreign tongue. The night elf, Dargon apparently, spoke back in that same language, nodding his head. Khail then turned to the brothers.

“This is where I leave you, then. Dargon has agreed to grant you stay at his inn, at no charge. You will find your beds upon the highest floor of the inn,” Khail explained, once again speaking in Orcish.

Both Zami and Zalu nodded, offering no comment or question, even if they had them. They were both exhausted, having not slept the whole night, and had spent the last few days sleeping fitfully upon the bare ground. As such, both were eager to accept any beds to be offered.

As Khail made his leave, Dargon led the brothers up to the highest floor. He gestured to the beds, then disappeared back down the ramp. Zami looked at the little purple beds and snorted. They were half his size. Zalu flopped down on one of the beds, sinking deeply into the surface so fast that he nervously clung to the bed frame. Zami took a seat on the bed next to Zalu, slower and more carefully than his brother had. It made little difference in the result, however, and he sunk down just as deeply.

Both brothers exchanged awkward glances, not sure what to make of the situation.

“Well,” Zalu cleared his throat, “I guess dese elves like dere beds soft, huh?”

“Ya think?” Zami chuckled, feeling as though it were more like sitting in an armchair than on a bed.

“Okay, well, I’m going to...lay down,” Zalu said as he laid back onto the bed awkwardly.

As Zalu laid back, his head hit the headboard at the top while his legs from the knees down were hung past the baseboard. He rolled a bit, trying to get comfortable, and fell over the side of the bed. Zami snorted again, leaning forward to rest his arms atop his knees.

“Dis is...gonna be difficult,” Zalu said from the floor, clicking his tongue.

“You could say dat again, mon,” Zami sighed, propping his chin up with his hand, “Ya ain’t no layin’ down in a bed dat small.”

“Guess I’ll just sleep on da floor den. It’s better dan da ground, at least,” Zalu shrugged.

“Mm, I dunno,” Zami grunted in quiet disagreement, before glancing around the room, “So, what’cha think about dis place?”

“Feels strange...I ain’t never seen nothin’ like it. Not even in da Plaguelands,” Zalu said before adding, “But, still, its kinda familiar too, isn’t it?”

“So ya felt dat too?” Zami looked to his brother, “I thought maybe dat was just my mind playin’ tricks on me.”

“Nah, somethin’ about dis place reminds me of...somethin’ or other. Can’t quite put my finger on it, ya know?”

Zami nodded, understanding the sentiment completely. In many ways, Moonglade seemed completely alien from any place he’d ever been before. But, even so, there was something about it that just seemed so familiar. Like a distant memory nearly forgotten and only left as a faint shadow within the mind. Like something he knew, yet had never known.


	20. First Impressions, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up, because this is chapter was so long that I had to break it into two chapters!

Zami had a dream about the moon. It was shining over the ocean, between a thousand sparkling stars. He was standing upon the shore. There was nothing else in sight but the horizon and the sky. No ships on the water, no docks on the shore, nothing at all. Crouching down to the ground, Zami looked at the reflection of the moon. Silvery hair swirled in the surface of the water. The luminance blinded him from most of the features, but he knew it was her. Slowly, he extended a hand towards the reflection and dipped it below the surface. The water was cold, yet he felt something else. Something not cold. It felt like…

“Awaken.”

Zami’s eyes opened as he felt a large hand nudge his shoulder. He blinked up at Khail, who was standing over him.

“I have arranged your meeting with Keeper Remulos. Get up and get ready.”

Tiredly, Zami sat up and reached for his eyepatch on the bed next to him. He gave a quiet sigh of relief as the green vision faded. He still didn’t understand what was going on there, but it seemed to only grow more and more obnoxious as time went on. He almost wished he’d just lost his vision. At least that wouldn’t be so headache-inducing.

Khail led them out of Nighthaven and began to lead them down the southern road. After walking for a few minutes, Khail stopped in front of a wooden archway then gestured through it. Various armed guards, night elf and tauren alike, were stationed at the archway and patrolling the grounds nearby.

Zami followed Zalu walked through the archway and stumbled into his back as his brother stopped short. He looked forward, intent to complain, when he saw why his brother had stopped. A huge creature stood before them, with an upper body similar to a night elf and the lower body of a deer. Its left hand was formed grotesque wooden spikes that looked like a hand that had been formed out of a tree. The other, on his right side, was overgrown with vines and leaves. Indeed, much of his body was covered in moss and foliage, even his long green hair looked to be formed of vines. Atop his head were two large antlers like that of a stag.

“Hail,” Remulos spoke in a deep resounding voice, not speaking Orcish yet still speaking intelligibly to the brothers, “Your presence here has been foretold.”

Remulos turned his glowing green eyes to look straight at Zami.

“I see that your power has already awakened. Why do you attempt to hide it? Remove that covering, troll. Let me look upon that which sees the Dream.”

A bit anxious at being singled out, Zami hesitantly lifted his hand up and pulled down the eyepatch, opening his right eye.

“Do you comprehend the nature of the power which you have been gifted, troll?” Remulos asked, “You have obtained the power to see directly into the Emerald Dream, your body and soul forever bound to it.”

Zami nodded as though he understood, but furrowed his brow. He still didn’t quite understand what this whole Emerald Dream thing was, and he figured it was high time he found out.

“Uhh, what exactly is da Emerald Dream?” He asked tentatively.

“The Emerald Dream is the realm of Ysera, the Green Dragon Aspect. It is a spirit world that parallels our own, showing the state of the world had nature been left to grow freely without interference.”

Zami nodded, supposing that made sense with what he saw.

“But why do I got dis power?” Zami pointed to his eye, “I ain’t no druid or nothin’ like dat.”

“Perhaps you were not, once upon a time, yet you have been brought upon this path by powers higher than yourself,” Remulos answered, “Therefore, you are a druid.”

As Zami furrowed his brow, not sure how he felt about that, Zalu limped forward on his staff.

“Okay, but what about me?” He asked, “He got his eye back. Am I gonna get my leg back?”

“That depends on you.”

Zalu blinked, dissatisfied with the answer.

“Okay, so what do I gotta do, den?”

“You have not learned if you have simply been told the answer.”

Zalu scowled, growing increasingly frustrated with the Keeper’s elusive answers.

“Okay,” He growled, “Then can ya tell me what to do?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, mon!” Zalu huffed, looking away angrily, “Can’t believe dis. He gets some magic eye, and I can’t even get a regular old stupid leg!”

Remulos looked down at Zalu, who pouted and leaned grumpily against his quarterstaff. Finally, after a moment, he spoke.

“Is that truly all you wish to obtain?” Remulos asked, almost sneering at Zalu, “Can you not see the greater value that exists beyond the material plane?”

Zalu looked over at Remulos, sneering right back.

“No, I can’t,” He spat and pointed over at Zami, “Because he’s da one who got da fancy magic eye, remember?”

Zami facepalmed and gave an exhausted sigh, wanting to strangle Zalu. Now, he had absolutely no clue who this Remulos guy was, but he seemed like he was pretty important. And probably not someone for Zalu to try and pick a fight with.

“...Very well,” Remulos said as he extended his wooden hand towards Zalu.

Remulos tapped his pointed wooden fingertip against Zalu’s leg, and suddenly he winced. The sound of roots crunched from underneath Zalu’s leg and it began to glow as moss covered the bottom of the stump below his knee. Then a small green leaf bloomed from the moss, and the glow disappeared. Zalu looked down, furrowing his brow.

“What da in da name of da Loa is dis supposed to be?! A leaf?! I said leg, not leaf!”

Remulos looked down at Zalu flatly.

“In time, if nurtured, it will grow. Perhaps it will teach you the patience you desperately need.”

Remulos then looked over at Zami, who was still staring at Zalu’s little green leaf.

“As for you, Emerald Seer,” He began, drawing Zami’s attention, “You will be assigned to the service a skilled druid of the Circle. They will teach you everything that you need to know to foster the skills of a druid proper.”

Zami nodded, glancing once more over at Zalu next to him.

“What about my brudda?”

“I do not care what he does, so long as he does not remain in my shrine,” Remulos glanced over as well, “He may choose to pursue the druidic path, if he wishes. Otherwise, he may depart to crawl back under whatever rock he calls his home.”

Zalu looked up angrily, opening his mouth, and Zami slapped a hand over his mouth, not wanting his brother to anger Remulos further.

“Thank you, we’ll be goin’ den,” Zami said quickly, yanking his brother away from the scene before it was Sen’jin Village all over again.

When they returned back to the road, Khail had a mixed expression. He looked kind of exasperated by Zalu’s antics and gave him a disapproving scowl, before turning to Zami.

“I will find the perfect teacher, Zami,” He said with a nod, “You may wait at the inn in Nighthaven until I can secure a teacher for you.”

He then turned to Zalu, immediately scowling again.

“And Zalu, what will you do now? Do you wish to continue upon the druidic path?”

Zalu looked down, flicking his little leg leaf, and gave a shrug.

“I dunno, I guess. I don’t got nothin’ better to do, and it ain’t like I can go back to huntin’ or anything, so why not?”

Zami was secretly quite relieved that Zalu had decided to stay. Being the only troll in Moonglade, and the whole Cenarion Circle, would’ve been pretty awkward. As they walked back to Nighthaven, Zami put his eyepatch back on. Even if it was supposed to be a gift or whatever, it still gave him headaches.

Before long, Zami and Zalu were seated at the inn dining on bean soup, banana bread, and melon juice. It was horrible, far too dainty and elfy a meal for Zami’s liking. He wanted nothing more than to tear into a nice juicy bear steak. And getting drunk would’ve been nice, but the strongest drink Dargon sold was probably the milk. So there he sat, trying to eat like an elf.

“What a jerk,” Zalu grumbled, playing with the leaf on his leg, “Teach me patience, bah! Ain’t nobody teachin’ me a thing!”

“But didn’t you agree to druid trainin’ before?” Zami looked over at him, dunking his banana bread into the bean soup in an attempt to make it palatable.

“Well, okay, fine. Ain’t nobody teachin’ me anythin’ except how to be a druid. There, happy?”

“Mildly satisfied, I guess,” Zami shrugged, “Although I dunno if I even wanna be a druid, myself. I just wanna go back to Stranglethorn.”

“What’cha obsession wit Stranglethorn, anyway? Ya always goin’ on and on about it. What, is it full of naked women and endless ale?”

“Nah,” Zami shook his head, “It’s full of a dead man.”

Zalu looked across the table.

“Okay, my Orcish ain’t dat great, but even I know ya said dat wrong.”

“Aw shut up, mon,” Zami sighed, shoving a piece of banana bread in Zalu’s mouth, “Ya know what I mean...Jumi’s dere, and I’m gonna kill him. He’s a dead man walkin’ as dey say.”

Zalu shook his head, propping his chin on his hand.

“Just let dat go already, would ya?” He said after a moment, “He’s prolly already dead if ya still haven’t found him, ya know? Besides, who cares anymore?”

“I care,” Zami crossed his arms, “He left us, Zalu. Left us all alone. Left our ma’da.”

“So what?” Zalu shrugged, “Our ma’da left us, too.”

“Not til we were grown. And what’cha mean, so what? He needs to pay for what he did.”

“Zami, my brudda, it was years ago. We were kids den, but ya grown now. Just let it go already, mon.”

Zami leaned forward onto the table, looking aside angrily.

“I can’t,” He said slowly, “I can’t let it go, because I’m da only one who still cares. I’m da only one who’s gonna keep him from gettin’ away wit it.”

“Why does dis matter so much to ya?” Zalu sighed, “And don’t say it’s because ya were da closest wit him. We all know dat Zuka was his favorite.”

“It matters because it I’m da one who had to pay for him runnin’ out da most,” Zami looked down, “Because I’m da one who had to get a job skinnin’ and leatherworkin’ while da rest of ya got to go play and be kids. Because I’m da one who never got to meet a girl like da rest of ya while the gettin’ married. Because I’m da one who couldn’t shoot an arrow and ended up bein’ a disappointment to da family.”

Zalu snorted loudly, slapping a hand on the table.

“You, a disappointment to da family? Zami, ya da only one of us who ever did anythin’ for da family. Da rest of us were always too busy fightin’ and carryin’ on. Ya kept everyone together, until ya left. Den as soon as ya gone, everybody started dyin’ and whatnot. Dat’s how useless we are when ya ain’t dere.”

Zami wasn’t sure how to respond. He wasn’t used to praise or even anything positive said about him, and it made him uneasy. He could never tell when someone was speaking in earnest or not, although Zalu’s words did seem candid. He went to respond, when Khail approached their table.

“I’ve found three possible candidates willing to be your teacher, but they wish to meet you before they agree to take your as their student.”

“Dat’s fair, I guess,” Zami nodded, standing up.

He turned to Zalu, going to speak, but Zalu cut him off.

“Yeah, yeah. Go on, ya got druid stuff to do,” He waved a hand dismissively, “We can talk later, mon.”


	21. First Impressions, Part 2

Zami followed Khail, who led him to his first potential teacher. She was seated by the edge of the sparkly well in the midst of Nighthaven, a thick book in her hands. She had rosy pink skin and long purple hair tied into one long braid over her shoulder. She looked up as they approached, closing her book, and Zami could see red markings like two leaves around her eyes.

“This is Andariene,” Khail explained, gesturing to the elf, “She cannot speak Orcish fluently, unfortunately. She is a Druid of the Moon, following the path focused on balance in all things. They have a mastery in taking the form of a moonkin.”

Andariene bowed her head, saying something in the night elf language. Zami glanced over at Khail, rubbing his neck.

“I dunno if I’ll be able to learn much from her if I can’t even understand her.”

“A fair point,” Khail nodded, “Well, perhaps the second option would suit you better.”

Khail brought Zami to the second potential teacher, a tauren standing at the edge of the great pond just outside of Nighthaven. He had light brown fur marked with white spots and one of his horns was broken. He looked over at Zami and Khail as they approached, stroking his long braided beard.

“Hello,” He said with a nod of his head, “I am Bonta Stillhorn. I am a Druid of the Fin. Our small order is dedicated to preserving the natural life of the oceans, and as such we are in frequent conflict with the naga.”

“Well,” Zami put his hand on his chin, “I do hate da naga…”

“Then you will join us, perhaps?” Bonta smiled, “We can teach you the power to become a sea lion and quickly travel the waters of Azeroth with ease, with no need for air.”

“Perhaps you should visit your third potential teacher before deciding,” Khail suggested.

“Oh, by all means, please. Seek all who would offer you knowledge first, although I believe you will find the Order of the Fin is the best path in your training.”

As Khail led Zami away from Bonta, who looked back to the water, he leaned over to him.

“The Order of the Fin has dwindling numbers compared to some of the other orders. Perhaps you should consider one with greater potential for peers to learn from.”

Zami nodded, and let Khail lead him back into Nighthaven to meet with the last potential teacher. In truth, he was kind of disappointed in the options so far. He was hoping for something that allowed him to learn the cat form that Zuka had seen in her vision.

“Ain’t dere someone who can teach me to be a cat?” He looked over at Khail.

“I asked around, but no Druid of the Claw was willing to take you as a student.”

The last potential teacher was a male night elf with bright green hair and pink skin. He was clean shaven with no beard, and it kind of emphasized his baby face. Actually, he just looked young overall.

“This is Erian Greencaller. He’s Druid of the Branch, and a rather novice one at that. They are focused on healing and restorative abilities. He doesn’t have much experience, and he cannot speak Orcish, but he is the only other druid willing to take you as a student.”

Zami frowned, looking down at the young night elf with a sigh. He didn’t even try to hide his disappointment. Erian frowned and looked down, his rejection having been all too clear on Zami’s face.

“Can’t you just teach me?” He asked, looking over at Khail.

“I had intended to, but I could tell that Keeper Remulos was not pleased with such an arrangement. Hence why he suggested you find a new teacher.”

Zami made a face then rubbed his neck tiredly.

“What was the first one called again?” He sighed.

“Ah, Andariene? Do you wish for her as your teacher?”

Zami shrugged, going to speak, when something caught his eye. Long white hair blowing in the breeze, which instantly beckoned the sight from his dream to mind. It belonged to a night elf woman with purple skin. She had two dark purple markings across her glowing white eyes that looked like blades.

“Who...Who is dat?” Zami asked, nodding his head towards the white-haired night elf.

Khail followed his gaze and looked over.

“Oh, that? That is Mythene Moonshadow. She is the leader of the Order of the Branch, and renowned as one of the most skilled healers of the Cenarion Circle.”

Zami was quiet for a moment, staring at the night elf’s pure white hair. He didn’t really know why, but he just had a feeling. A gut instinct, although it felt like more than that.

“I choose her,” He said slowly, “I want her to be my teacher.”

“Mythene?” Khail chuckled, “But she’s the leader of an Order, she would not have time to...hmm, well, then again, maybe? She does not have many students, herself. But with good reason. Mythene is not exactly the most friendly, and certainly not with...non-elves.”

Zami looked over at Khail and perked a brow.

“I can speak from experience,” Khail added, “To tell you the truth, I am surprised that she did not leave the Cenarion Circle when the Emerald Coven defected. She does seem the type.”

Zami looked back to the white-haired night elf, who was speaking in the elvish language with another night elf. His eyes continued to flick onto her white hair. He really couldn’t explain it, but he really needed this Mythene lady to be his teacher. He didn’t care if the Order of Branch could turn into trees, as ridiculous as that sounded, because he had this unshakable feeling like whatever Mythene had to teach him would be more significant than little old Andariene, who couldn’t even speak Orcish.

“It was an unlikely idea to begin with,” Khail shook his head before turning away, “Now, come. Andariene should still be by the moonwell.”

Zami turned to follow Khail, stealing one last glance over at Mythene. As he did, she just so happened to look up at the same time, and their glances met. She blinked at him, raising a long white eyebrow suspiciously. She turned back away and Zami did as well, resigning himself to becoming a moonkin. Whatever that was supposed to be.

“Khail,” A woman said from next to Zami.

Zami looked over and did a double take, as Mythene was now standing next to him.

Khail paused, turning back in surprise.

“Ah, Mythene?” He blinked at her.

Mythene said something in what Zami had now reasonably figured must be Common, and Khail responded in the same tongue. Zami watched cluelessly as the two of them talked about him, as was obvious by the number of times they both gestured and pointed to him. Mythene even poked him in the arm once, earning a confused scowl.

“Very well, then,” Khail nodded, still seeming to be a bit at a loss, “It seems you get your wish. Mythene has offered to take you as her student.”

“Really?” Zami furrowed his brow, “Why?”

“I have no idea,” Khail shrugged, “She did not say. She only said that she wishes to teach you.”

“Huh…” Zami looked at Mythene, “But can she even speak Orcish? I mean, how am I s’posta---”

“Yes,” Mythene cut him off, crossing her arms, “I speak this uncouth guttural tongue quite fluently, actually. I was previously posted in southern Ashenvale, and I had the misfortune of coming into frequent contact with your heathen orcish allies.”

“Oh,” Zami rubbed his neck, “Well, okay den…”

He was already starting to wonder if Andariene wouldn’t have been a better choice after all. At least she wasn’t so obviously racist. If she had anything insulting to say, she probably would’ve said it in a language that he didn’t understand. With Mythene, he had a feeling he’d have no such luck. It would be nothing but brual, and probably offensive, honestly. And it would be often.


	22. Teacher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote this chapter at least a dozen times. I just couldn’t be satisfied with it, no matter what I did. I spent the last two days working on it, and I kept getting stuck and restarting. I even wrote a chapter from Mythene’s POV to try it out before deleting that, too. Finally, I realized the core of what I really wanted to show, and that’s the student-teacher dynamic.

“First things first, troll,” Mythene narrowed her eyes, “I am the teacher. You are my pupil. You will listen to what I s---”

“Pupil?” Zami interrupted as he put a hand on his chin, “Dat’s like a baby butterfly, right?”

Mythene slumped her shoulders forward, pressing her slender fingertips against the bridge of her nose.

“No,” She said as she closed her eyes, rubbing away a headache, “It is not like a butterfly. It means student. You are my student.”

“Oh, right, gotcha,” Zami nodded.

“Now, as I was saying, troll, you will listen to wh---”

“Oh, dat reminds me. Ya never asked my name, so---”

“Please,” Mythene lowered her hand, “Stop interrupting. I am trying to---”

“Sorry.”

Mythene opened her searing white eyes, glaring over at Zami, who gave a semi-apologetic shrug. She continued to squint at him silently, as though waiting for him to speak. He wasn’t sure what more she wanted...

“I won’t interrupt again,” Zami added, “Promise.”

She continued to blink at up at him silently, the look of disdain frozen on her face. Zami looked away awkwardly, rubbing his neck. Even looking away, he could feel the ice from her gaze against his face, as though she’d briefly thought she’d turned into a basilisk or something. Maybe that was what Druids of the Branch could shapeshift into. He still didn’t know, although that probably didn’t sound right. Wouldn’t it be a name more fitting then, like Order of the Eye or something?

“If you’re quite finished,” Mythene spoke, after what felt like ages, “I was saying, you will listen to...oh, you know what, nevermind. Let’s just progress to your first lesson already, troll.”

“Huh? Oh, uh, okay,” Zami looked back at her.

Mythene waved a hand at him dismissively, gesturing for him to move away. Zami went to take a step back, but found his feet were rooted in place. Literally. He looked down and saw thick green vines had emerged from the ground and wrapped around his legs.

“This is one of the most basic spells a druid can learn,” Mythene explained, “One need only find connection with the spiritual essence of the nature that surrounds them, and then they may offer sway over the path of that which grows within.”

Zami blinked back, nodding slowly.

“Right…Spiritual essence…”

“Exactly,” Mythene nodded, “Now, I want you to see if you can remove the vines.”

Zami’s hands moved toward and Mythene clicked her tongue.

“Without touching them,” She added.

Zami moved his hands away from his legs and looked down at the vines. Rather cluelessly, if he could say so. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. Just, will the vines away? He wasn’t exactly a spellcaster. And what in the name of the Loa did she mean about all that stuff before? Spiritual essence of nature? What was that even supposed to mean?

“You’re not going to scare them away,” Mythene said sarcastically, putting a hand on her hip.

“Huh?” Zami looked up, only just realizing he’d been scowling intently at the vines, “Oh...No, I was just---”

“Thinking?” Mythene scoffed, “I’m surprised you even can, troll.”

Zami furrowed his brow.

“I got a name, y’know.”

“Yes, I am aware,” Mythene crossed her arms, “But I don’t care. If you so unwilling to even attempt to learn anything, then I am unwilling to teach you. You can go learn to become a Druid of the Fin, or whatever such rot.”

Zami went to speak but suddenly paused.

“Dat reminds me…” He cocked his head to the side, “Why are ya teachin’ me, anyway?”

“Because I offered to.”

“Yeah, but why?”

“Because I did.”

“Yeah, but---”

“Are you going to try and remove those roots or not?” Mythene cut him off impatiently.

“Ya want me to get da roots off?” Zami grumbled angrily, “Fine.”

In a swift motion, Zami unsheathed the dagger from his hip and raked it through the vines, ripping them apart.

“Happy now?”

“You know that isn’t at all what I meant,” Mythene crossed her arms once more, “I said to remove them without touching them.”

“And I didn’t touch ‘em once,” Zami put his dagger back in the holster, “Only my blade did.”

Mythene looked angry for a moment, but then her anger melted into something almost like amusement.

“I suppose you did not, troll,” She admitted after a moment, “Clever.”

Mythene put a fingertip against her chin, glancing to the holster at his hip.

“You’re trained with that blade, I take it?”

“Dat’s what dey tell me,” He shrugged.

“How curious,” Mythene quirked an eyebrow, “I had expected you were nothing more than a useless whelp, without a lick of experience. Perhaps I was mistaken.”

“Ya think?” Zami snorted, ignoring her annoyed glance, “I ain’t no whelp.”

“What other capabilities do you possess?” She asked, beginning to stalk around him like a vulture.

Or a panther, he noted.

“Uhh, I dunno,” Zami rubbed his neck, “I know a couple things about poison.”

“A budding herbalist, perhaps?”

“Nah, I ain’t got no time for pickin’ flowers.”

“I see,” Mythene said as she continued to circle him, “Then what is your time dedicated to?”

“Mostly skinnin’ and cookin’ and runnin’ around Stranglethorn, I guess.”

Mythene stopped.

“Stranglethorn? Why?”

Zami shrugged his shoulders, not really wanting to divulge such a personal aspect of his life with this relative stranger.

“Ya know, troll stuff,” He blatantly lied, figuring she’d go for that pretty easily.

“I see,” She responded flatly, “But what of your combative experience?”

She then stopped her circling, standing once more in front of him.

“I could not help but notice your eyepatch,” She said with a gesture towards it, “An old battle wound, perhaps?”

Zami cocked his head to the side. Was she still unaware of that Emerald Seer thing that Remulos had mentioned? Zami opened his mouth to explain, but quickly shut it. Maybe, he thought, it would be better if she didn’t know. There seemed to have been nothing but trouble in his life ever since that night that panther took his eye. He figured, the less people who knew about what it really was, the better.

“Yeah,” He finally said after a moment, “Cat got my eye when I was in Stranglethorn. No big deal, though.”

“Aren’t you trolls supposed to regenerate such minor injuries?”

“Ah, well,” Zami blinked, caught off guard by her question, “Well, uh, it don’t work so well when ya get old, like me.”

“Old?” Mythene raised an eyebrow again.

“Yeah, I’m nearly in my thirtieth year.”

Mythene scoffed, waving a hand dismissively.

“And I am nearly in my four hundredth,” She chuckled, “I had nearly forgotten how short-lived you lesser races are.”

Zami looked at her flatly.

“Lesser?”

“Oh, you know,” She waved a hand again, “You savage races.”

Zami scowled. That was certainly no better an alternative, in his mind.

“And I s’pose dat makes you elves da ‘better’ den?”

“Naturally.”

“And why’s dat, exactly?”

“A vast number of reasons, Many of them beyond your feeble comprehension, no doubt.”

Zami felt himself getting a bit heated by her relentless and unbearable prejudice. He couldn’t help it. Not when it was so explicitly in his face.

“If I’m too feeble-minded to understand nothin’ as ya say I am,” He asked through gritted teeth, “Den why are ya even botherin’ wit teachin’ me in da first place?”

Mythene jutted out her hip and rolled her head to the side in a cocky, arrogant sort of way that made Zami’s blood boil.

“Because,” She smirked, “I enjoy a challenge.”


	23. Differences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a day late! I wanted to take the day off yesterday, since straining for two days to come up with yesterday’s chapter was pretty taxing. But I did do some light planning, and I finally worked out the ending of the main plot!

“She’s unbearable,” Zami sighed, unstrapping his shoulder spaulder, “A nightmare. I can’t stand her already.”

Zalu sat cross-legged on the floor across from him, carving a symbol of Gonk into the end of his quarterstaff. Seeing as there wasn’t really anywhere else to put them, the brothers had been assigned to stay at the upper floor of Nighthaven’s inn for the time being.

“Dat’s rough, mon,” He said without looking up, “Could be worse, though. Coulda been stuck wit a worgen like me.”

“I dunno, does da worgen keep sayin’ you be too stupid to even learn dis druid stuff?” He glanced over, unsnapping the front of his leather cuirass, “Cause Mi’ten won’t shut up about it. She just keeps goin’ on and on about how awful I am.”

“Oh, like you be doin’ for her now?” Zalu glanced over.

Zami furrowed his brow, and set his spaulder down atop the little purple bed.

“Nah, mon, dis is justified. I’m sayin’ she’s a monster cause she’s too full of herself and lookin’ down her nose at everyone,” Zami shook his head, “But she’s just sayin’ dat I’m a monster cause I’m a troll.”

Zalu was quiet for a moment, stopping to blow the wood shavings away.

“Well, maybe she thinks dat cause she ain’t never met one,” He shrugged, “Prolly just don’t know any better.”

“Maybe,” Zami sighed in frustration and crouched down on the floor next to his brother, “But what am I s’posta do? It ain’t like I’m gonna change her mind.”

“Maybe teach her about us?” Zalu offered, “Let her change her own mind?”

“What’cha sayin’ now?” Zami scoffed, resting his elbows on his knees, “You think she’ll listen to a word I say? You be as crazy as she is.”

“Den show, don’t say,” Zalu sighed, setting his staff against the wall, “Anyway, I’m tired. Let’s quit da talkin’ and get some sleep.”

Zami went to respond, but Zalu had laid down and was snoring within seconds. He still envied Zalu’s ability to fall asleep so quickly. With a sigh, he leaned forward and rested his chin on his hands. Zalu’s words had, surprisingly, given him a lot to think about.

In many ways, Zalu was probably right. He knew that the Alliance that were not too keen on trolls. And in some ways, Zami supposed pieces of negative image regarding his people were true. There were a lot of aspects that contributed to their bad image. Their historical penchant for cannibalism was probably one of the major ones, even though they’d ceased the practice since joining the Horde. Voodoo, regeneration, their tempers, poor posture, and their comically bad Orcish were all contributors to their bad reputation, too. 

But these were all things that he couldn’t change, nor did he want to. They were parts of his culture, his history. Just because outsiders didn’t understand it and called it savage didn’t actually mean it was. It was just...complicated. In truth, Zami didn’t even understand it all himself. He attributed that mostly to not paying attention to the village elders when he was a child, ignoring their teachings in favor of learning to use a dagger.

Yet maybe that was the main problem his people faced. Not the voodoo, or the cannibalism, or even being exiled from their homeland, but their inability to change. They could adapt well, physically, but clinging to the past always seemed to be an issue. He’d seen it time and time again, growing up, because if nothing changes, the same problems persist. A resistance to change was in the nature of trolls, he supposed, but change was nature too.

When the next day had come, Zami awoke and decided that starting this day, he would try to do things differently that he might normally. So when he sat up and reached for his eyepatch, he hesitated. Normally, he would put it on. So maybe today, he wouldn’t wear it. After opening his right eye and already starting to get a headache, Zami picked up the eyepatch and put it on. Well, not every single thing had to change, right?

“You’re late,” Mythene crossed her arms, looking up from where she was seated by the moonwell.

“I know, sorry,” Zami said as he looked down at her, “My brudda was tellin’ me dis really long and stupid story dis mornin’ and I couldn’t tell him to shut up.”

“Well, you can make up for late arrival by actually putting forth an effort today.”

Zami went to snark back, his initial instinct, but stopped himself. Instead, he nodded.

“I’ll do my best.”

Mythene sighed.

“Then I won’t expect much”

Zami again bit his tongue, holding back his instinctive desire to say something equally as rude. Mythene seemed to notice his lack of comment and raised a silver eyebrow but said nothing on the matter.

To Zami’s surprise, he found that learning from Mythene was much easier when he wasn’t busy getting angry and arguing about every other thing like last time. Sure, her casual derisive comments were annoying, but he resisted his urges to say anything back each time. Eventually, her comments even began to taper off, perhaps they seemed to be having no effect. From the outside, at least. 

It certainly did take a lot of willpower to let that pesky little elf get away with insulting him so freely, but by this point Zami was determined to see the day through. He had to. He needed to know that he wasn’t just going to be more of the same, like his parents. He needed to know that he could be different; that he could change.

Even if it was mentally exhausting.

“Troll,” Mythene said suddenly, drawing him from his thoughts with a start, “Pay attention to what you’re doing. You must be focused on your work. ”

Zami nodded and looked back down. Seeing as he wasn’t even able to control roots, Mythene had concluded that he wasn’t yet connected to the ‘essence’ of nature. Again, whatever that was. As a result, she’d assigned him to planting a little garden outside of Moonglade, to get some closer connection to plants or something. Normally, Zami would’ve protested to doing something that was so blatantly women’s work, but today was a day for changing.

“What are dese, anyway?” He asked, looking at the little purple seeds.

“You will see when they grow,” Mythene responded elusively.

Zami frowned but nodded, once more holding his tongue. He’d never realized how difficult it would be to go a day without being sarcastic. Or, maybe as Mythene would put it, rude.

“Fret not, troll,” She said as she crossed her arms, “They will grow quickly. Provided you tend them properly, that is.”

“But I dunno how to do dat, I ain’t never---”

“Start with water.”

Zami blinked a few times as Mythene held a tiny little bucket in front of him.

“Go, fill this with water from Lake Elune’ara and return.”

Zami resisted the urge to tell her to do it herself, taking the bucket. This really was going to be a long day, wasn’t it?


	24. Identity

As Zami crouched next to the shore, scooping up a bucket of the crystal blue water, he heard something. Like a whisper in his ear. Raising an eyebrow, he turned to look over his shoulder. There was no one. Shrugging, he turned back and stood up with the full bucket. Then he heard the whisper again, this time in the other ear.

He turned again to look, and found himself staring at a wisp. It floated next to him, dancing gently on the air. Zami blinked a few times, not sure sure what the Loa would want with him. Then he heard another, separate whisper, and another wisp flew from his other side. Already getting a nagging feeling that something bad was going to come from all this, Zami lowered his head to look at the ground. Mostly as a sign of respect to the Loa. As he stared at the edge of the water, he heard several other whispers join the first two. He dreaded to look up, knowing there must’ve been at least half a dozen wisps by this point. 

Awkwardly, Zami continued to stand in place, tapping his fingers against the handle of the bucket. He heard the whispers continue to increase, almost excitedly, and he winced. Yeah, something bad was definitely going to happen. Something bad always happened when these weird things occurred.

“There you are,” Mythene’s voice suddenly broke the whispers, “I was wondering what was taking so long.”

Zami glanced over, seeing Mythene approach. She waved a hand dismissively at the wisps, and they flew away, scattering into the sky.

“The wisps can be so curious,” She chuckled, “I doubt they have ever seen the likes of you before.”

“...You mean a troll?”

“Not a druid one, at the least.”

Mythene put a hand on her hip, pausing to look out over the lake.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Zami nodded, looking at the water.

“It is said that these waters are blessed by Elune herself, and they are the clearest in the whole of Kalimdor.”

Zami nodded again. The sparkling waters certainly were clear.

“I have heard that it is quite different from its mirror in the Emerald Dream,” Mythene added.

Zami paused, glancing over at Mythene for a moment. Seeing she was looking out upon the water, Zami brought a hand up to his eye patch. He was curious. Different how? Slowly, he closed his left eye and began to flip the eye patch up. Then he opened his green eye.

As soon as he did, Zami wished he hadn’t. His ears were immediately met with deep whispers, barely audible yet painfully loud. It was agonizing, Like a scratching at the back of his skull, from inside, and from behind his eyes. He dropped to his knees in pain, his vision of the blood red vines before him blurring. Grunting in pain, he shut his eyes tightly. 

Only then did the whispers, and their pain, fade.

“What’s wrong, troll?” Mythene asked as she crouched next to him, her voice anxious but not overly concerned.

“Wh..What was...dat voice?” Zami grunted again, his ears still ringing.

“Huh? Voice? You mean mine?”

“Not you,” Zami shook his head slowly, only opening his left eye.

With a shaking hand, he quickly put his eye patch back down. Then he glanced over at Mythene, who was looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and caution.

“What’s the meaning of this, troll?” She asked, narrowing her eyes.

“I….I don’t really know, myself,” He sighed, knowing he’d have to come clean, “But da Keeper guy, he called me Emerald Seer. Said my eye can see into dis Emerald Dream thing. Still don’t know why.”

Mythene knitted her brow, looking at him in disbelief.

“You can see into the Emerald Dream, troll?” She scoffed, standing up, “Right, sure. Because of course you can.”

Zami couldn’t help but notice that beyond her obvious sarcasm and disbelief, he sensed a hint of jealousy in her voice too. Zami found that surprising, but he found it annoying even more so. If he could have, he would have gladly given his eye to her. He never asked for, nor wanted, this apparent gift. Yet here he was, whether he liked it or not.

“I ain’t lyin’ about dis,” He said as he stood up, “Go ask da Keeper, if ya don’t believe me.”

Mythene crossed her arms, looking away grumpily. Then, after a moment of glaring at a nearby plant, she sighed and lowered her arms.

“No...I don’t need to,” She huffed, “I know you’re too stupid to come up with a lie like that, troll.”

That was it. He’d had enough. Screw change.

“I got a name,” He said slowly, glancing over at her.

“So what? I don’t ca---”

“I know, I know,” Zami cut her off, “Ya don’t care, blah blah blah. Didn’t we already do dis game before?”

“Game?” Mythene perked a brow.

“Well, it’s gotta be a game, right? Just a little joke? Ha ha?” He said sarcastically, “I ain’t stupid. I know what’cha doin’ here.”

“Oh?” Mythene narrowed her eyes, “And what am I doing, pray tell?”

Zami shrugged his arms out, his anger apparent in his body language.

“Well if I don’t have a name, I ain’t a person, right? Den I just be a ‘savage troll’ and ya don’t have to feel bad about all desd things ya sayin’ to me, right? Cause who cares, dats just a troll, it ain’t no person. Ain’t dat about right?”

“It’s just the truth,” Mythene scoffed, “I’m sorry if you’re offended to hear it, but they do say that truth hur---”

“No,” Zami cut her off, “It ain’t da truth. But how could you know dat? You don’t even know me, and in ya own words, you don’t care to. And even worse, den ya sayin’ I’m da one unwillin’ to learn? Take a look at ya self first, why don’tcha?”

Mythene scrunched up her face and extended her arms straight in anger, her tiny little fists balled at her side. She only needed to start stamping her foot, and she’d look like a tantruming child. Something about it, maybe the fact that she was several hundred years older than him, suddenly broke through Zami’s anger and he felt a smile tug at his lips. Mythene’s expression quickly changed from fury to confusion, as Zami started to laugh.

“I can’t believe dat I didn’t realize before...” He said quietly, covering his face with a hand, “You ain’t nothin’ but a four-hundred year old child!”

Mythene scowled as Zami’s laughter only grew, at her expense. Angrily, Mythene turned on her heel and began to walk away.

“Oh, by da way, Mi’ten,” Zami called after her, stifling his laugh, “One more thing!”

She stopped short, glaring back over her shoulder.

“What is it?” She asked through gritted teeth.

“My name’s Zami.”


	25. Sincerity

The next day, Zami refused to leave the inn. He had no desire to go train with Mythene any longer, not after what had happened yesterday. After some contemplation, he realized it was probably stupid to pick his teacher based upon her hair color.

“What’cha gonna do now?” Zalu asked, propping his chin on his hand, “Find a new teacher?”

“I dunno,” Zami shrugged, pouring his melon juice into his bean soup, “Maybe. What about da worgen teachin’ you?”

“I dunno, mon,” Zalu frowned, “Livvy’s kinda...creepy.”

“Livvy?” Zami raised an eyebrow, “What a weird name…”

“See? I told you. Even her name’s weird. And she keeps makin’ jokes about chewin’ on bones. It’s got me kinda worried, mon. Like, what happened to da rest of her students?”

“Maybe she ate dem,” Zami shrugged and set his bowl of soup down, “Ask her what tauren taste like. I always been curious.”

“It ain’t no joke, mon! I’m afraid she’s gonna take my bones, maybe for some ritual!”

“Zalu, please,” Zami shook his head, “I mean, just look at ya self. Ya ain’t exactly…”

“Ain’t exactly what?”

Zami shrugged, dunking his banana bread into the soup. He had found that if all three flavors were mixed together in just the right way, it still tasted like hot garbage. But at least he could get through it quicker. As he took a bite of the banana bread, two little purple hands suddenly slapped onto the table between them, making both brothers jump with a start. They both looked up in confusion at Mythene, who was leaning over the table with a scowl on her face.

“Wow,” Zalu blinked a few times, “Ya never said she was pretty, for an elf.”

Mythene outright ignored Zalu’s presence, turning to scowl at Zami, who blinked back cluelessly with a piece of banana bread in his mouth.

“You skipped training,” She said slowly.

Zami looked away, continuing to eat the banana bread. He had nothing to say to her. What use would it be, anyway? She’d just twist it around into some way to insult him for being a troll. Again.

“I understand why,” She said after a moment, leaning back away from the table.

This, he hadn’t expected. He looked over to her with a perked eyebrow.

“I realize now that perhaps, I was not being a good teacher,” She continued, speaking in a halted way as though it was difficult to admit, “I allowed my personal prejudices to hinder your training.”

“Ya think?” Zami grumbled, glancing away again.

Zalu sipped his melon juice and looked between the two. He was clearly enjoying getting a front row seat to watch the drama.

“I realize now that I have failed you in my duties both as a member of the Cenarion Circle and as a druid. I thought that the doctrines of Cenarius would be far too complex for the likes of a troll, like you---”

“Yeah, ya made dat pretty clear,” Zami interrupted, crossing his arms.

Mythene growled in frustration at the interruption, before clearing her throat.

“It is our duty as druids to protect and guard the wilds, and the creatures within,” Mythene continued, “Trolls included.”

Zami sighed. He supposed this would be the closest he could get to an apology. It was obvious from the halted way she spoke and the uncomfortable look on her face that Mythene probably wasn’t all that good at apologizing, anyway. Even so, it was the thought that counts, right? At least she was making an effort to try, and that had to mean something.

“Fine,” Zami looked over at her, “But would ya stop bringin’ up dat I’m a troll every other sentence?”

“...I will do my best.”

Zami grinned and looked over at her, propping his chin on top of his hand.

“Den I won’t expect much.”

Mythene stared at him for a moment, no doubt recognizing her own words. Then after a moment, she looked down and chuckled, shaking her head.

“Yes, I understand,” She said as looked back at him, “So, does this mean you will come train now?”

Mythene brought Zami back to the little garden he’d planted. To his surprise, little buds had already sprouted from the soil. As he crouched down to examine them, Mythene chuckled.

“I did say they would grow quickly, did I not?”

“Ya still haven’t told me what dey are,” Zami glanced over at her.

“And I won’t. You must learn to put forth the effort without knowledge of the result. This is the most fundamental lesson of nature,” Mythene said as she knelt next to him, “Control is an illusion. This seed will always bear this plant, and we cannot control that. All that we can control is ourselves, our ability to nurture and foster its progress…”

Mythene extended a hand towards one of the buds.

“...Or end it.”

As her hand went to pluck the bud from the soil, Zami grabbed her arm. To his surprise, she smiled.

“And that...” She looked over at him, “That is the duty of a druid. To stop those who would bring harm to nature.”

Zami nodded, releasing her arm. He looked back at the little budding plants, and couldn’t help but feel a little bit of kinship for the buds. He’d planted them himself, and he’d watered them. He couldn’t help but care a little bit, if for no reason other than not wanting to see his hard work undone. He began to wonder, had this been Mythene’s plan all along?

“Hey, Mi’ten,” Zami glanced over at her, “Did you plan dis from da start?”

“Yes, I did,” She smiled, “I told you it would help you to develop a connection to nature. I am pleased that you at last recognize my genius.”

Zami hesitated before asking his follow up question.

“Even...all dat other stuff? Was all dat planned too?”

Mythene glanced aside.

“No…That was my error. It seems that I, too, still have things to learn.”

Zami snorted in amusement, drawing a perked eyebrow.

“Obviously,” He chuckled, “Ain’t no way to know everythin’ dere is. Not unless you secretly be a Loa.”

“Ah, no, I’m afraid not.”

“Besides, even if ya did know everything,” Zami rested his arms on his knees, “It wouldn’t matter, ya know?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if ya learn everythin’ in da world, it must take a really long time, right? By da time ya finish, everythin’ prolly already changed, and ya gotta start over, ya know?”

Mythene nodded.

“An interesting perspective,” She said as she folded her hands together in front of her, “Not one often shared by my people. We often believe that the longer you take, the better the quality. Time has little bearing on our lives, as it does you shorter-lived species. We were once immortal, but we’ve since lost the blessing.”

“Yeah, I heard somethin’ or other about that, somethin’ with a tree right?”

“Yes, Nordrassil. The world tree.”

“Dats da one you elves live on, right?”

“No, that is Teldrassil. It’s the child of Nordassil, grown of a branch in an attempt to restore our immortality.”

“Oh, right, right,” Zami nodded, although he was already way out of his depth.

He hadn’t even paid attention to his own people’s history, why would he have given any special consideration to another?

“Ah, forgive my rambling,” Mythene said as she stood up, “You have work to do.”

“Work?” Zami blinked up at her.

To answer his question, Mythene held a familiar tiny bucket out in front of him.


	26. The Blitz

Zami crouched down to the ground, setting the full bucket of water down on the grass beside him, as he tiredly examined the state of the garden. It had only been a week, but the plants had already grown quite a lot. The little green sprouts had grown, spreading out into a ball of thick green vines. Hidden inside of the vines, it seemed that some kind of giant flower bud was growing. The different plants had petals in colors between pink and white. The flowers still hadn’t opened and, to Zami, they looked more like eggs than flowers from within the sphere of vines.

“How are you still thirsty?” Zami mumbled quietly to the plants as he picked up the bucket, “Dis is already da fifth time today, but you guys just keep drinkin’ it up. Bet’cha all gonna grow real big like one of dose elf trees, huh?”

“Talking to your plants?” Mythene leaned over next to him, putting her hands on her knees.

Zami nearly dropped the bucket as he jumped in surprise.

“No, uh,” He cleared his throat, “I was just, uh---”

“You should,” Mythene cut him off, “They can hear you.”

Zami perked an eyebrow, looking up at Mythene.

“Really?”

“Yes, of course. They’re still very young, but they can hear you. It is actually better that you talk to them,” Mythene said as she stood up, “They won’t attack you when they bloom if they are familiar with your voice.”

Zami furrowed his brow, more than a little concerned, then turned back to the flowers. After spilling out the water equally across the five plants, he stood up and looked over at Mythene.

“You ever gonna tell me what dese are?” He asked, gesturing to the plants.

“You shall see soon enough,” Mythene said evasively, “Now, shall we proceed with your training?”

Zami nodded and went to speak when there was a loud crashing noise. To Zami, it sounded like a ship’s cannons. Maybe he’d spent too much time in Booty Bay. His eyes head snapped up to look at the Lake, which was, as far as he knew, the only body of water. Mythene, meanwhile, had a different instinct and looked up to the clouds expecting thunder. After a second crash, both turned to each other in confusion.

That was when they heard the screaming.

It was coming from Nighthaven. Even from a distance, they could see a massive swarm of night elves storming into the village. Nighthaven’s guards did what they could to hold back the tide and many of the druids held their ground against the attackers as well, but there were so many of them and they quickly were getting overwhelmed. Mythene grabbed Zami’s arm.

“We have to help!” She said before darting off into the fray.

Zami tried to follow her, but quickly lost sight of Mythene in the sea of elves. Zami had little time to look, because the elves attacked at him as soon as he came into view. Which was, honestly, probably quickly. He did stand several heads taller than the elves, after all.

One night elf, a male bearing green hair tied into a ponytail, swung a staff at Zami from the left. And on the right second night elf, this one a female with blue hair in a braid, cast a ball of energy at his head. Zami dove back, narrowly dodging both strikes, and pulled the dagger from his hip. As the male went to swing again, Zami held his breath and felt himself go stealthed as he took another step out of the way.

The night elves shouted at each other in a foreign language and then turned to attack a nearby tauren guard. Zami clung tightly to the hilt of his dagger, taking another step back. He quickly scanned across the fighting, noting the attacking night elves all seemed to be fixating on non-elf targets. That gave him a pretty good inkling of who was behind this. The sight of movement at the inn caught his eye, and Zami saw several night elves running inside. Weapons drawn.

“Zalu!” Zami hissed, quickly weaving his way through the fighting and towards the inn.

As Zami entered the inn, he saw Dargon leaning against the counter with a kitchen knife in his hand, and blood dripping from his side. There were several dead night elves at his feet. Zami lowered his stealth, becoming visible again, and hurried over to him.

Dargon looked over at him and said something in Common. Zami shook his head, not understanding. Dargon repeated himself and pointed to his wound. Zami looked down at the bloody wound then back at Dargon, not sure what he wanted. With a tinge of blatant irritation, Dargon pointed at Zami then again to his wound.

“What, ya want me to heal ya?” Zami cocked his head to the side.

Dargon nodded vigorously, apparently having some understanding of Orcish afterall.

“But I dunno how,” Zami frowned, “Mi’ten can’t even teach me to grow roots yet…”

Dargon pointed again to Zami and then his side. Zami sighed in frustration, not sure how to get his point across. Dargon continued to point at his side, glancing around nervously for any more of the invaders.

“Ugh, fine! I’ll try!” Zami growled, crouching down next to Dargon.

Zami moved his hands about awkwardly in the air, not sure what to do with them. Was it one of those things where people had to do fancy stuff with their hands, or did he just have to touch his wound? Because the former was hopeless and the latter seemed like a good way to spread disease. After a moment, Dargon grabbed Zami’s hand and put it against the wound, wincing in pain as he did so.

“O-Oh, right, okay…” Zami stammered, trying to make his best guess what to do next.

Zami tried to think back to his extremely limited week of training thus far. He found that he really wished Mythene was here. Khail had said she was one of the Circle’s best healers, hadn’t he? Too bad she couldn’t have at least given him a demonstration of healing or something. Instead, she’d just wasted all this time talking about the ‘essence of nature’ and having a connection to plants. What good was any of that? What good was knowing about plants?

That was when Zami got an idea.

“Dargon! I dunno if you can understand me right now, mon,” Zami said as he stood up quickly, “But I gotta take some of ya cookin’ stuff.”

Dargon gave Zami a suspicious side eye as he went over to the little area where the food was made. Zami quickly began to search through the various dried spices, picking out a few select herbs. Then he quickly grabbed one of the bowls of bean soup, spilling the contents out. That earned an insulted scowl from Dargon, to which he gave an apologetic nod of his head, before mixing the various spices together in the bowl. Zami then mixed the herbs with the contents of a waterskin before hurrying to Dargon’s side and putting the bowl to his lips.

After drinking the concoction, the blood at Dargon’s side began to clot and the stream soon stopped. Dargon looked down to his side curiously as the wound began to heal, before giving Zami an impressed glance. Zami shrugged his shoulders, just glad the little bit of herbalism he’d picked up in Stranglethorn turned out to be useful.

Dargon then gasped quietly, looking at something beyond Zami. Zami glanced back over his shoulder, and turned directly to face the maw of a frostsaber.


	27. Captives

Zami slowly looked up to the frostsaber’s rider. She was a night elf with light violet skin, piercing white eyes, and long white hair tied back into a ponytail. At first, Zami mistook her for Mythene, but then he saw the markings on her face. Rather than the squiggly purple daggers that Mythene had across her cheeks, this elf had two straight red lines. They looked like the fangs of a snake. Normally, he considered snakes good luck. This was clearly an exception.

“Troll,” The night elf said in fluent Orcish, “Where is the other?”

After hearing her speak, Zami recognized her as the night elf he’d seen within the tauren’s blue flames back in Mulgore. Zami heard footsteps and saw several other elves approach behind the one on the frostsaber. Looking at them, Zami only just noticed that each elf bore a choker about their necks, decorated with a bright green emerald at the center. The night elf on the frostsaber included.

“Where is the other troll?” She asked again, slipping down from the back of her mount.

Zami watched the elf draw a decorated wooden cudgel and in turn found his hand at his own hip, holding the hilt of the dagger. In response, the night elf scoffed.

“Come quietly, and you will not be hurt,” She said in a familiar condescending tone, “Draw the blade and you will die here.”

Zami hesitated, glancing around the room. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to take all of them. Maybe if he’d been further into his druid training, he might’ve had a chance. But as it were, there was no way. All they had to do was that roots thing Mythene had done before. Gritting his teeth, he reluctantly admitted there was no way. Slowly, he lowered his hand from the dagger.

Dargon said something in Common angrily from over Zami’s shoulder, earning him a look of disdain from the female night elf. With a growl, she at once brought the cudgel down against Dargon’s head, knocking him out cold from the blow. The night elf then turned her attention back to Zami.

“Do not resist your fate,” She hissed as she brought the cudgel down on his head.

When Zami awoke, he had a throbbing headache and heavy lungs, like he could barely breathe. His head felt sticky, and he wasn’t unfamiliar with the sensation of dried blood. The wound it had come from was long healed, he noted and hoped that meant his regeneration had restored. He could hear the sounds of many footsteps and wagon wheels against road, and every now and again he felt his body jolt. He knew that he was currently in transit, but to where?

Zami then opened his eyes and found he was curled up in a cramped darkness. When he went to move, he felt wood at all sides and it became quickly apparent that he was stuck inside of some kind of wooden crate. After a few minutes of struggling without the use of his arms, which were bound behind his back, Zami managed to sit up.

A faint stream of light shone through the side of the box, and Zami saw that a few small air holes had been pierced into the side of the crate, perhaps with a blade. His lungs still burning and his body heavy, Zami quickly leaned over towards the holes, his cheek smacking roughly against the wall. After a few moments of moving around with his tusks scraping against the wood, trying desperately to get his mouth close to the air holes, he gave up in frustration. He couldn’t get close enough. Instead, he tilted upwards and his forehead smacked against the wood. If he couldn’t get his mouth close enough, maybe he could get his eye.

Though the air holes were pretty tiny, Zami found one large enough to look out of. As he peered out, he saw that he was no longer in Nighthaven, or even Moonglade. Instead, he was in some kind of spiny grey forest. The atmosphere was tinged with a thick green fog, yet it seemed unnatural. It reminded him of the toxicity of Undercity.

Looking down from the tree line, he saw several marching night elves. They each wore the green collars he’d noted before. They must’ve been Emerald Coven. But what did they want with him? Why were these people so intent on capturing him? And for what? It was irritating not being able to ask anything. In frustration, he banged his fist against the wall of the crate.

In response, there was another bang. It came from somewhere to his right and was a bit fainter. It could've just been a coincidence, he figured. Perhaps just a noise from the wagon moving around. But just to be sure, Zami knocked against the wall of the crate twice. Two knocks responded.

Realizing that there must’ve been someone else, Zami looked back out the air hole. He could just barely see that there was another crate next to his. A gnawing feeling began to rise in his chest. He really hoped that wasn’t who he thought it was.

“Zalu?” Zami whispered out of the air holes, “Dat you, mon?”

Zami heard some scuffling from the box next to him, then a familiar voice responded.

“No,” Mythene sighed, “It’s Mythene.”

“You?” Zami whispered back, “Why you?”

“I appreciate your concern,” She said flatly.

“Er, no, I mean,” Zami shifted uncomfortably, “Why are you here? What do dey want wit you?”

“Petty vengeance, no doubt. Perhaps Syrene finds my capture amusing.”

“Si’ren?”

“My sister.”

“Huh? Ya sister?”

“Oh, you don’t know,” Mythene sighed, “My sister Syrene founded the Emerald Coven. She is their leader.”

Zami blinked a few times at the surprising revelation, especially the casual manner in which is was delivered.

“Coulda maybe used dat information sooner, yeah?” He grumbled back.

“Oh, do forgive me,” Mythene scoffed, “I’m so terribly sorry to inconvenience you by neglecting to freely mention my family’s disgraceful utter betrayal of the Cenarion Circle.”

“Well, it is kinda important, Mi’ten. Dey did try to capture me before.”

“Really? Why, I simply had no idea they had any sort of interest in you, troll. It isn’t as though you’re their captive right now, sitting in a crate in the middle of Felwood and being taken to goddess-knows-where against your will.”

“Ya know, we’re kinda in da same boat here. Isn’t dis dat pot callin’ da kettle black thing?”

“Oh, shut up,” Mythene sighed, “You don’t even know why they want to capture you.”

“You right, I don’t,” Zami scoffed, “So, ya gonna hold out on dat too?”

Zami heard Mythene sigh again.

“...Fine,” She said after a moment, “What do you want to know?”

“What do dey want wit me and Zalu?”

“It all began when my younger sister joined the Emerald Circle, a branch of the Cenarion Circle here in Felwood. She wanted to help them battle the demonic corruption of the region. I soon learned that she’d gained the favor of the Emerald Circle’s leader, Archdruid Navarax, and he had begun to personally tutor her. I found his sudden interest in her suspicious, fearing his intentions were unsavory, but I could find no evidence of anything out of the ordinary.”

Zami listened as Mythene recounted the story, silently noting the pain in her voice.

“One day, she returned to Moonglade spouting nonsense about some prophecy. She would not tell me the source, but her supposed prophecy told that Malorne and Cenarius will be resurrected, and the Cataclysm was the catalyst to the beginning of the prophecy.”

“But what’s dat got to do wit me and my brudda?” Zami asked, “We didn’t cause da Cataclysm.”

“Well, the prophecy apparently says that two brothers will be necessary for their return. One will be able to see into the material world and the Emerald Dream at the same time, while the other will be able to walk freely between both realms at will. They’re called the Emerald Walker and the---”

“Emerald Seer,” Zami cut her off, remembering what Keeper Remulos had called him.

“Right. I had thought the ‘prophecy’ was nonsense, but Syrene became obsessed with it. She started corrupting many of the druids of both the Emerald Circle and the larger Cenarion Circle to follow her. They broke away from the Circle not long after the Shattering occurred, seeing it as evidence of their prophecy. And then...you arrived.”

Zami looked down, feeling his eye patch seem to get heavier.

“Your mere existence makes them brazen. Otherwise, they never would’ve laid siege to Nighthaven.”

Zami was silent for a moment.

“What about Zalu?” He asked quietly, “Did dey capture him too?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Mythene said, “We two and Khail Mountainwalker were the only captives they took with them.”

“Khail?” Zami’s head shot up, “He’s here too?”

“Yes, but I’m afraid he’s still unconscious. He put up quite the fight, and his injuries are many. I hope he still lives.”

“Well, you can just heal him, right? Khail said you are da best healer in the Cenarion Circle.”

“I cannot heal him if I cannot see him,” Mythene sighed, “And I can see little from within this box.”

Zami thought for a moment, then he got an idea.

“What if you weren’t in da box, then?”

“Well, then yes, obviously. But that would require escaping.”

“So let’s escape, den.”

“You say that as if it were easy.”

“Not easy, just possible.”

“You have a plan, then?”

“Nope, not at all,” Zami said as he leaned his arms back.

It took a bit of wiggling around but gradually he got his elbows propped against the wall of the box. He really, really hoped his regeneration was back to normal now. Otherwise, this was going to hurt for no reason.

“Well, here I go, den,” He mumbled nervously, “Wish me luck.”

“Wait, what? Luck? What are you talking about, troll?” Mythene asked quickly.

Zami quickly pushed his full body weight down, keeping his elbows propped against the wall. The result was a loud popping and cracking noise, as he forced his shoulders out of the sockets. Grunting in pain, he continued to push himself down so that his arms eventually came over his head.

“What are you doing?” Mythene asked, no doubt hearing the popping, “Hello?”

“Just a second, Mi’ten,” Zami said through gritted teeth, his shoulders and arms burning in pain, “Kinda busy here.”

Once his hands had fallen limply against his chest, another crackling noise came from his shoulders. After a moment, the searing pain in his shoulders subsided. Tentatively, Zami went to move his arms and to his delight, they responded as normal. Pleased to learn that his regeneration had in fact returned, Zami brought his bound hands up to his tusks. He then wedged his tusk between his wrists and used it to break the bindings. 

With his hands now free, Zami put them up against the top of the wooden crate. Though the lid seemed to be sealed down, it was just wood afterall and must’ve been pretty thin, judging by the air holes. Nothing that couldn’t be solved with a little bit of cutting. Zami smiled and pulled his skinning knife out from its place on the inside of his leg cuff. After giving the ever-reliable blade an appreciative kiss, he plunged it through one of the air holes and began to carve out a hole.


	28. Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween, everyone!

“Where are you?” Mythene asked quietly as Zami cut her bindings with his skinning knife.

“Right here,” Zami whispered back, “Let’s just hurry up and get Khail. I can’t keep dis up forever.”

Zami was stealthed so the night elves surrounding the cart wouldn’t see him out and about. Zami extended his hand to Mythene through the hole he’d cut in her crate, spreading his stealth to cover her as well, so they’d both be hidden and could see each other.

“How are you doing this?” Mythene looked Zami up and down, “I’ve never heard of a troll being able to shadowmeld. And druids certainly cannot do such at will. At least, not without turning into a---”

“Well let’s just say I weren’t always a druid, yeah? I’ll explain later. Now come on.”

Quietly, the two of them began to creep towards the end of the cart where the last crate was. As the cart hit a rock in the road, they were knocked forward and Mythene smacked into Zami’s back.

“Ouch, my nose…” She whispered and began to rub her little nose.

“Oh please, don’t complain ‘cause dat thing is tiny,” Zami gestured to his own nose, “Imagine hittin’ dis thing.”

“Aren’t your fangs supposed to block you from hitting your face off of things?”

“Dey’re called tusks, and you’d think so but not really,” Zami sighed before tugging her arm, “Anyway, come on.”

Still stealthed, they silently moved over in front of the last crate. Zami crouched down and peeked through the air holes.

“Yeah, dats Khail all right,” He nodded, “He ain’t movin’ and he’s really bloody.”

“Let me see,” Mythene said as she climbed over in front of him.

The lack of space between the crate and the side of the cart left Zami already squished up against the side. Mythene forcing her way to the crate left her awkwardly positioned between Zami’s legs, and her head hit the bottom of his tusk.

“Turn the other way,” Mythene grumbled, reaching up and blindly trying to push his head to the side. As she did so, and caused his other tusk to crack into the side of her head. With a frustrated sigh, she raised her hands and took a hold of both tusks, forcing Zami to look up at the sky.

While Zami wasn’t really a fan of any bodily contact, he especially hated having his tusks touched. It was a pretty personal thing among trolls, though the intimacy of it was sort of ruined by the unpleasant memories of his mother always yanking him around by the tusk when he was in trouble. And Mythene pushing his head around using them had the same sort of belligerent attitude. It made him grumpy, to say the least.

Even so, Zami continued to obediently stare up at the sky. He couldn’t see the stars, even though the dark of evening had clearly set in. The thick green haze of the air was nearly impermeable, and even in the clear patches, a canopy of dead grey trees blocked the view of anything beyond. Moon, stars, or otherwise.

A faint glimmer caught his eye at the edge of his vision and Zami glanced down, seeing Mythene with her hands raised. After a moment, there came a stirring from within the crate and Khail slowly sat up.

“Where am I…” He mumbled groggily.

“Shh,” Mythene whispered to him, “You’re in Felwood.”

“Felwood? I do not understand.”

“We’ve been taken captive by the Emerald Coven. But we’re going to escape now.”

Khail nodded, understand that part at least. Zami reached around past Mythene to cut into Khail’s crate. This resulted in banging his chin painfully on the top of her head, and both of them winced.

“Can ya just move?” Zami sighed, “I can’t reach.”

Mythene nodded and went to climb past Zami’s leg when the cart jolted again, causing her to slam back into Zami’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him. She quickly went to move aside and, of course, banged her head on his tusk again. From within his crate, Khail watched the two of them untangling themselves from each other with tired amusement.

“I am glad you seem to have grown closer since you were first introduced to one another,” He commented with a chuckle.

“Hey, I don’t mind leavin’ you here, mon,” Zami said sardonically, earning an annoyed glance from Mythene as she climbed aside.

With her out of the way, cutting a hole into the side of the crate for Khail was easily. After the hole was open, Zami cut Khail’s bindings and then extended his stealth to him as well.

“Fascinating,” He mumbled, “I have never seen a troll with such a capability.”

“That’s what I said,” Mythene nodded.

“Perhaps it is one of his unique abilities as the Emerald Seer?”

“I was thinking that too, but what purpose---”

“Would ya two shut up?” Zami rolled his eyes, “I learned how to do dis so I could steal from people wit out gettin’ caught, okay?”

Both Khail and Mythene looked at him in surprise.

“What’s dat look for?” He grumbled, glancing aside, “You don’t get to act all surprised. It ain’t like either of you know me in da first place.”

While it was true that stealing from their rivals was sometimes in order, the goblins of the Steamwheedle Cartel rarely used Zami for mere stealing. There were much worse things to avoid getting caught doing.

“I apologize,” Khail muttered, “I did not mean to offend---”

“Yeah yeah, whatever, mon,” Zami shrugged dismissively, “Now can we focus gettin’ outta here?”

“Yes, I have an idea,” Mythene whispered, “They can’t see us at all, correct?”

Zami nodded.

“Then what exactly are we waiting for?”

Zami and Khail both exchanged confused glances as Mythene pulled them over the side of the cart. The trio landed in the dirt beside the road, their escape going entirely unnoticed by the night elves. As the cart continued on down the road, the elven entourage disappearing with it, Zami let his stealth fade.

“Dat was close,” He sighed and sat up, “What now? Back to Moonglade?”

“No, it is clear Nighthaven has been compromised,” Khail shook his head, “How else could the Emerald Coven be aware of your presence there?”

“I agree,” Mythene nodded, “We should seek shelter elsewhere.”

“We are in Felwood, yes? If we have come from Moonglade, then this must be the north,” Khail looked around, “I have heard that the Emerald Circle has recently established a foothold in Whisperwind Grove. It should not be far from here.”

“The Emerald Circle?” Mythene frowned before shaking her head, “No, I do not trust them.”

“But they are our brothers and sisters, druids as we are.”

“Even so,” Mythene glanced aside, “I do not trust their leader, that Navarax.”

“Archdruid Navarax?” Khail chuckled, “What have you to fear of him? His efforts only oppose the demonic forces which taint the region.”

“I do not trust him,” Mythene crossed her arms, “I cannot give you evidence nor a reasonable explanation, but I know he has something to do with my sister Syrene’s fall to darkness.”

“Perhaps you are right, or perhaps not,” Khail shrugged, “Regardless, what other option do we have?”

Zami looked between the two of them, only partially listening to their conversation. He felt uneasy. The sickly forest around them seemed to close in upon them, in a menacing sort of way. Something about this place really creeped him out, maybe the demonic corruption the others kept mentioning. Either way, it made his skin crawl.

“Look, I don’t really care where we gotta go,” Zami finally spoke up, “I just don’t wanna stay here.”

“Which is why traveling to Whisperwind Grove would benefit us,” Khail nodded, “We may travel by wind rider to Thunder Bluff and speak to Archdruid Hamuul Runetotem about what occurred in Moonglade.”

“Wait, did you say fly?” Zami winced, “I don’t wanna fly…”

“But there is no alternative,” Khail shrugged.

Mythene looked down for a moment in thought and then looked back up.

“Yes there is,” She nodded, “We’ll walk south to Ashenvale.”

“Walk to Ashenvale?” Khail looked at her incredulously, “Are you mad? That would take several days, to say nothing of the dangers along the way. Besides, what would we find in Ashenvale?”

“We could travel to Astranaar. My sister Cassene is one of the Silverwing Sentinels stationed there.”

“How are you are certain that she does not ally herself with your other sister?” Khail asked plainly with a raised eyebrow.

Zami cleared his throat awkwardly as fury began to show on Mythene’s face.

“Cassene is a sentinel, sworn to her duties!”

“And Syrene was a druid sworn to the Cenarion Circle, was she not?”

Mythene narrowed her eyes at Khail, was still dispassionately interrogating her. Zami felt an odd reminiscence for watching his siblings fight and quickly stepped between them.

“Hey, well, I ain’t never met you sister, Mi’ten. Dat one, at least. But ain’t it a bad idea to bring us two Horde to an Alliance town?”

“You are both druids of the Cenarion Circle above to any other allegiances,” Mythene said as she glared at Khail, “Are you not?”

Khail looked back at her sternly, clearly a bit offended she would question his loyalties.

“Of course,” He said slowly, “But I still believe it would be more prudent to speak with Archdruid Runetotem than it would your sister.”

“Well, I disagree. And I’m going to Ashenvale, with or without you, tauren.”

“Very well, then,” Khail said as he turned to Zami, “I am traveling to Whisperwind Grove regardless. Shall you join me, Zami?”

Zami blinked, looking between Khail and Mythene. After rubbing his neck awkwardly, he gave a tired sigh.

“Uhh, I guess not,” He shrugged, “You said going to Ashenvale would be real dangerous, right? So she prolly shouldn’t go alone.”

“I understand,” Khail nodded, “I wish you best of luck on your travels. Walk with the Earthmother.”

As Khail turned to leave, Mythene crossed her arms grumpily. Zami looked over at her and cocked his head to the side.

“I don’t need you to protect me,” She scoffed, “I am not a helpless child.”

“No,” Zami shrugged, “But you do kinda act like it.”

Mythene shot Zami a look that made him raise his hands defensively on instinct. Then she angrily turned away and began to walk down the road.

“Hmph, fine! If you insist on joining me, then you had best keep up!”


	29. Burning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare yourself for a long one!

“So,” Zami cleared his throat as they walked along the broken stone road, “Dis sister of y---”

“What about her?” Mythene snapped, glancing over at him.

“Well, I just was gonna ask if---”

“If I I can trust her?” Mythene scoffed, “Of course I can. She is my sister, troll. How could you even ask such a thing?”

“Dat ain’t what I was gonna ask,” Zami grumbled, “I was gonna ask if she was a druid too.”

“...Oh,” Mythene looked aside, almost sheepishly, “No, she is not. She chose to follow the warrior’s path.”

“Ah, a warrior, huh?” Zami said with a smile, “My brudda Zoji wanted to be a warrior, but my fa’da made him a hunter like da rest. So he became a soldier fightin’ for da Horde, made my ma’da real proud.”

“Was?” Mythene glanced back cautiously.

“Ah, he...he died,” Zami rubbed his neck, “Pretty recently, come to think of it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry for your loss,” Mythene frowned, “Might I ask, what happened to him?”

“Well, he was fightin’ in Ash….” Zami trailed off, stopping in place.

Mythene paused and turned to him.

“Dat’s right…” Zami mumbled and looked down, “He was...down dere.”

“Hm?” Mythene blinked and followed his gaze, “Underground?”

“Nevermind,” He said quickly, “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Zami started to walk again, this time with a bit of haste. Mythene strode up next to him and matched his pace, looking off to the side.

“I understand,” She said quietly, “I, too, know the pain of losing kin.”

Zami looked over at Mythene for a moment, though she continued to look away from him.

“My only brother. Enerion. He was the youngest of us,” She sighed, “He perished nearly two centuries ago, back when were only children.”

Zami didn’t ask what happened, just looking straight forward again. Judging by the pain evident in her voice, he didn’t want to.

“It is still difficult to speak of, even now,” Mythene continued, “They tell you that it gets easier to deal with over time, but that’s a lie. It never gets easier.”

Both were silent for a moment, just walking along the broken road. Every now and then, some distant fel creature would grunt or howl from somewhere in the wilderness, hidden by the thick green fog. Finally, Zami spoke.

“We were close, Zoji and me,” He shrugged, “Closer dan me and Zalu anyway. He was da only one who didn’t see me as a big disappointment to da family. I ain’t a hunter, ya know? And he didn’t wanna be. So I guess we just sorta...clicked.”

“Enerion and I were quite close as well,” Mythene said quietly, “Yet for the opposite reason as you, perhaps.”

“Huh? What’cha mean?”

Mythene hesitated for a moment before looking over at him.

“Well...I never wanted to be a---duck!!”

“Be a duck? Wha---” Zami managed to get out before Mythene pushed him down to the ground.

Zami looked up at her questioningly before a shrill laughter met his ears. Looking up in the direction that Mythene was, he saw a lithe figure approaching. She had ashen skin, hooven feet, glowing fel green eyes, and curled black horns upon her head. The figure extended her hand to the side, cracking a spiked black whip. 

“Don’t look directly at the demon, you fool!” Mythene growled as she pushed his head to face the ground, “It’s a succubus. It will enthrall you to its service if you look upon it!”

“Well what about you!” Zami grumbled, resting his chin against the ground.

“I am protected by Elune. The presence of the moon guards my mind, but she cannot guard yours!”

Zami froze a moment. The moon? She?

“Wait, who’s Elune?”

The succubus snapped her whip towards Mythene.

“Now is not the time for such discussions, troll!” She growled and moved her hands, casting a white beam of light down upon the succubus.

“What can I do?” Zami asked quickly, “Let me help.”

“You want to help? Then stay down! You’ll only make things worse if you look up!”

Zami growled in frustration as he heard Mythene and the demon exchange blows, only a few feet away while he just laid there on the ground. He didn’t like having to sit there helplessly. Suddenly, he heard a familiar voice.

“Zami! I need ya help!”

Zami’s head shot up on instinct, mostly out of surprise. He hadn’t heard her voice in years.

“H-Huh? Zin’aka?”

In front of him, Zin’aka was waving her sword, parrying every strike of the Southsea pirate across from her. The golden sunlight was glistening in her bright pink hair and the crystal blue seas rolled on the coastline behind her.

“Come on, mon!” She cried, “Aren’t ya gonna help me?”

“Help you? How?” Zami said as he covered his brow with his hand, blocking the sunlight.

“Kill dis pirate for me!” Zin’aka nodded to the Southsea pirate, “Ya got da perfect angle from right behind him! Just stab him wit dat knife ya got dere!”

Zami looked down to his skinning knife, picking it up slowly.

“How did I…” He furrowed a brow, “How did I get here…”

“Nevermind dat! I need ya help, Zami!”

“Oh, r-right…” Zami mumbled and stood up, “I gotta...help…”

He made his way up behind the pirate and raised his skinning knife to bring it down upon his head. Suddenly, he froze, his eye locked in the blade of the knife. Instead of reflecting the blue seas, it was reflecting a thick green smog. He furrowed his brow in confusion. He blinked a few times, but the image didn’t change.

“Zami! What are ya waitin’ for?! Hurry up! I can’t hold back dis sea dog for much longer!”

“Hold on a second!” Zami growled, “Somethin’ ain’t right here…”

“Zami!”

Zami wiggled his blade, seeing the reflection didn’t change even as he moved it. That couldn’t be right. It had to be a mistake. Maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him, or ...wait, eyes? No, he only had one eye.

“Just wait a second….” He mumbled, bringing his free hand up to his face.

He felt the eyepatch and rose his eyebrows in confusion. What did he need an eyepatch for? Was he dressing for the part or something? In amusement, he pushed the eyepatch up and away from his face.

“Zami! Hurry! You gotta help! Dis guy’s tough! I can’t hold him any longer!”

Zami blinked for a few moments, before slowly nodding his head.

“Yeah. I gotta help...”

Zami moved closer to the pirate and rose the dagger again, before bringing it down a bit more forcefully than he needed to. He heard a distinctive crunch as the blade pushed itself through the skull and embedded deep into the brain. Thick gobs of blood began to cover his hand. Angrily, he wrenched the knife out, flicking the gore away.

The succubus collapsed to the ground, dead in an instant. Mythene looked up at Zami, who was towering over her with an intense scowl.

“You looked,” She growled, “I told you not to look, troll! What were you thinki---”

“Shut. Up.”

Mythene was at a loss for words for a moment, blinking at him incredulously. Then, of course, her surprise turned to anger.

“I beg your pardon? What did you just say?”

“You heard me,” Zami said firmly, turning away from Mythene as he replaced his eyepatch, “Don’tcha be makin’ me repeat myself, woman.”

Mythene scowled and crossed her arms angrily, but to Zami’s surprise, she didn’t push it. Maybe she could tell from the tone in his voice that he wasn’t in the mood. Instead, she turned to look down the road.

“We should be cautious, only travel by night. There will be many more demons on the way to Ashenvale.”

“Sure. Fine.”

Mythene perked a brow, but didn’t say anything.

“It will be dawn soon,” She continued, “We should think about making a camp.”

Zami only nodded tacitly, his mind obviously elsewhere. He was still shaken by what he’d seen. How did that demon known her face? And her voice? And how much he had loved her?

“That looks like a good spot,” Mythene said as she pointed towards a small clearing near a few dead trees, “What do you think?”

Zami slowly turned to face her, looking at her blankly. He just stared down at her for a moment, saying nothing. Then he slowly looked away again.

“Oh calm down, it isn’t that bad,” She scoffed, “Excuse me if it isn’t the height of luxury, but you can only expect so much from a roadside camp.”

Mythene put her hands on her hips, playing the indignant part but her expression betrayed her true feelings. She was anxious, probably concerned why he was in such a bad mood now. Well, that was just too bad for her, Zami thought. Because he had no intention of telling her. It was private. Deeply, deeply private.

“Alright, well...” She shifted awkwardly, “Um, shall we gather some firewood?”

Zami just continued to stare at her lifelessly. It matched how dead he felt inside.

“....Okay, then,” She put her hands on her hips, “I guess I will gather some firewood. And you can just stand there like a big stupid tree with fangs.”

Zami looked over at her flatly.

“I told you before, Mi’ten,” He sighed, “Dey’re called tusks.”

“Fangs, tusks, whatever,” Mythene shrugged, “Look, are you going to help or not? Because if not, you should just stay out of the way.”

“Fine,” Zami grumbled, “I’ll just stay outta da way, den.”

“Fine,” Mythene grumbled right back before she marched over to a nearby dead tree.

She began to grumpily rip down the grey branches, muttering angrily to herself. Zami stared at her, watching her go with amusement. He had to resist the urge to laugh as she jumped up and down to try and reach one of the higher branches. She really was just like a little kid.

With a sigh more tired than annoyed, Zami walked over beside her and easily reached up, breaking the branch off and holding it out to her. She angrily swiped it from him, turning on her heel away from him.

“Hmph! I do not require your help, troll,” She said as she dropped the branches into the middle of the little clearing, “I am more than capable of gathering branches by myself, thank you very much.”

Zami watched as Mythene began to try and start a fire. First she rubbed the sticks together, then she tried rolling them together. With a chuckle, he went and crouched down next to her.

“No no, Zalu showed me dat you gotta make dis thing called a fireboard,” He said as he took out his skinning knife, “Here, let me show ya.”

“I don’t need your help,” She said indignantly, tilting up her chin at him, “You’d prefer to stay out of the way, remember? Go back to standing over there and being grouchy.”

Zami sighed, picking up one of the branches. He quietly began to carve a flat piece with the knife, just like Zalu had shown him before. Occasionally, he would glance over at Mythene as she continued to angrily rub sticks together.

“Come on! Come on, you stupid fire!” She growled under her breath, “Just catch already!”

Zami held out the fireboard to her.

“Try dis.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Just try it.”

“No.”

“Come on,” He said as he waggled the fireboard next to her face, “You know you wanna, Mi’ten.”

Mythene scowled over at him and then, after a moment, snatched the fireboard away from him. She looked it over in her hands with a confused scowl.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” She scoffed, “This is just a board.”

“Dat’s what you rub da stick on.”

Mythene looked at him with another scowl, like she thought he was making it up to make her look stupid, or something. With a sigh, Zami took one of the branches she’d been trying to rub together. He carved off the ends with his knife, making it come to a dull point, and smoothed the sides. Then he handed it back to Mythene. She looked at the branch dully, unimpressed with it.

“Like dis,” Zami said as he took her hands in his, guiding her hands to hold the spindle over the fireboard, into the little hole he’d carved for it.

Zami had Mythene hold her hand in place as he put a few leaves next to the point of contact. Then he showed her how to turn the spindle and after a few moments of effort, it started to smoke. A few moments more, a tiny flame licked at the leaves. They then added some more dry leaves, and small twigs, and then gradually the larger branches were added on too.

“Haha! Look at that!” Mythene grinned as the flames crackled in front of her.

As he reminded himself to thank Zalu later, Zami looked over at her and raised his eyebrows in surprise. He was pretty sure that was the first time he’d ever seen her really smile.


	30. In The Fog

Zami tossed and turned. He just couldn’t sleep. Rolling over, he turned to face the fire. Seeing that it was dwindling, he sat up and put a few branches onto it, stoking it back to life. He supposed it was pointless to do so, as the sun would rise soon, but it gave him comfort. He was on edge. He really didn’t like Felwood or the mysteries it hid within its green fog. 

Glancing over, he could see Mythene was asleep soundly on the other side of the fire pit. He wondered what an elf would dream about. Probably their giant trees or something. Looking back to the fire, Zami held out his hands towards it, gently feeling the warm air radiating from the flames.

It made his mind wander. That incident with the succubus had drawn forth memories of times he’d long forgotten…or at least, he’d tried to forget. It made him think about her, about Zin’aka. About how he had loved the way she laughed, and the way she said his name, and the way her eyes lit up when she smiled. It made his heart ache to recall. Because inevitably the rest of it would come too. Then he’d also remember the way she had screamed, and the way she had sobbed his name, and the way her eyes had become empty when she died.

Zami looked down, shaking the ghastly memories away. He didn’t want to think about it. It was better if he didn’t. Those memories just made him grumpy. Propping his arms on top of his knees, he sighed and looked up at the sky. Still nothing could be seen from under the canopy of dead trees, although the thick fog had dissipated enough that it wasn’t blinding.

With another sigh, this one a bit more forlorn, he looked back down from the sky to face ahead. That was when he saw figures approaching on the road, in the distance. Had the fog not let up a bit, he wouldn't have even noticed them. Squinting, he could make out the silhouettes of elves, made obvious by their ears. That wasn’t good. The Emerald Coven must’ve become wise to their escape from the cart and come looking for them. Quickly, Zami threw some sand onto the fire pit to put it out and then moved over next to Mythene.

“Mi’ten,” He whispered as he shook her, keeping his eyes on the slowly approaching figures, “Mi’ten, wake up.”

“Hmm? Wha---hey!” Mythene mumbled, slapping Zami away as she awoke, “Get off of me, troll.”

“Keep ya voice down,” He whispered back and gestured towards the approaching silhouettes, “We got company.”

Mythene sat up and rubbed her eyes then looked over. She frowned and looked back at Zami.

“We can’t identify them from so far away. Maybe they’re friendly?”

“You really wanna take da chance?”

Mythene glanced aside for a moment then got to her feet. 

“Come with me,” She said as she grabbed Zami’s arm and began to pull him further away from the road, and further into the thicket of trees beyond the clearing.

“Wait, what about da demons?” Zami furrowed his brow.

“Now that, I’d rather take a chance on,” She said quietly as she pulled him further into the forest, “At least demons are predictable. Syrene, on the other hand…”

Zami let Mythene lead him along for several minutes. Soon, they were immersed in the woodlands enough that there was no sight of the road any longer. Though they were far from the elves that sought them, a new problem had presented itself. Now, they were to focus on avoiding the demons. And now, they were lost.

“So what’s da plan?” Zami looked over at Mythene, speaking in a hushed voice

“Plan?” She blinked, “I never said I had a plan.”

“Wait, what?” Zami looked at her flatly, “You pulled me off into da middle of da woods and don’t even have a plan?”

“I was half asleep,” Mythene shrugged, “It seemed like a good idea at the time. Besides, you weren’t exactly spouting ideas.”

“Dat’s fair,” Zami sighed in exasperation, “But, ya know, I prolly coulda just stealthed us…”

Mythene looked up at Zami with a sour expression, before grumpily putting her hands on her hips and looking away.

“...I forgot.”

Zami heaved another tired sigh, slumping his shoulders.

“Okay, so you got no plan. Do you at least know where we are den? We ain’t lost, are we?”

“Of course we’re not lost,” Mythene scoffed, but added nothing further.

“Right, and…?”

Mythene glanced back at Zami, who squinted at her suspiciously.

“...And we are not lost,” She repeated defensively, “We’re just...off the path.”

“So, what you really mean is...we’re lost,” Zami sighed, slapping a hand over his face, “Cause of course we are.”

“Not lost!” Mythene insisted, “I just...need to get my bearings.”

“Right. And I’m da Queen of Stormwind.”

Mythene shot Zami a warning glance, which he promptly ignored.

“You betta have some fancy druid trick to findin’ da way, woman,” Zami said as he crossed his arms.

“You know, I’m about five seconds from just teleporting myself back to Moonglade and leaving you here alone,” Mythene crossed her arms right back, “How’s that for a francy druid trick?

“Good, go on,” Zami shrugged, “I won’t cry for you when you get a knife in da back.”

Mythene growled and straightened her arms, looking like a tantruming toddler again. Then after a moment, the tension left her body and she dropped her head forward.

“This is getting us nowhere,” She sighed, “Let’s just try to stop annoying each other and focus on the task at hand.”

“Fine,” Zami nodded, “But ya still annoying.”

Mythene rolled her eyes and looked around. The green fog was beginning to thicken again, and was starting to severely hinder their ability to see beyond a few feet.

“Hmm, I need a vantage point if I’m ever going to see through this fog...”

Mythene looked at Zami, as if trying to determine if he was tall enough to be a vantage point or something. Apparently unimpressed with his height, she instead turned to face a nearby tree. Looking up at the dead tree, she eyed its thick grey branches. Approaching the tree, she stood up on her tiptoes, trying to reach its lowest branches. They were at least two feet beyond her reach, but that didn’t stop her from trying. Nor did it stop Zami from chuckling at the sight. He just couldn’t fathom why in the world this elf always thought she was so much taller than she actually was.

Upon hearing him snickering at her, Mythene turned her head back at him and squinted.

“Troll, give me a boost. I can’t reach the branches.”

Upon hearing her, Zami stopped smiling and sighed. Grumbling, he went to her side and hoisted her up towards the branches. They were just beyond her fingertips. Mythene made a quizzical noise and then Zami grunted as she stepped onto his cheek for a little additional height. She then could easily reach the branches and lifted herself up, beginning to climb.

“I coulda used a little warning before you go steppin’ on my face,” Zami growled, rubbing the shoe print from his cheek.

“So sorry,” Mythene called down dispassionately as she continued to climb.

Zami looked up, watching her climb. She was a surprisingly skilled climber, he noted. Maybe night elves were really used to climbing trees or something. They did live in one, after all. After a few minutes, Mythene disappeared up beyond the green fog, which had begun to grow dense again.

Zami tapped his fingers together as he waited for her to reappear, occasionally glancing over his shoulder. This place still made him anxious, and it made him only more so to be alone. In the woods. Hiding from demons and cultists. He could swear he heard voices whispering in the wind and felt eyes watching him through the fog. Shuddering, he felt like a demon was going to pop out of the mist any second and eat his face. Wait, did demons even eat trolls? He supposed they did. They must’ve. They probably weren’t all that picky. And besides, even trolls ate trolls.

“Ugh, stop thinkin’ about dis, idiot,” Zami grumbled to himself, bonking himself in the head.

He looked back up at the tree eagerly, desperately wishing Mythene would just appear already. He couldn’t help but give a tiny sigh of relief as he saw her appear through the fog, climbing back down the tree.

“See anything up dere?” He called to her, trying not to reveal how unnerved he actually was.

“It looks like we’re closer to southern Felwood than I thought,” Mythene called back as she continued to climb down, “The border of Ashenvale isn’t far at all!”

Mythene removed a hand from the tree to point in the direction of Ashenvale’s border.

“H-Hey! Be careful!”

“Concerned for me, troll?” Mythene said mockingly, “Rest assured, I have climbed trees several times this size since I was only 40 years old!”

“Only 40?” Zami scoffed, “I ain’t even 40 yet...”

“I assure you, it’s perfectly safe,” Mythene continued, “I’ve never fallen from a tree before, and I once did it while blindfolded and drunk!”

To emphasize her point, Mythene removed her other hand, balancing herself on as she stood upon a branch.

“Well she don’t gotta show off…” Zami grumbled, folding his arms across his chest.

Mythene returned to climbing back down the tree, reaching the ground safe and sound. As she did so, she gave a little bow. As though he was supposed to be impressed by her lack of caution. Or common sense, apparently.

“Don’t look so sour,” She taunted, “I know you were hoping I would fall to my death. I am so terribly sorry to disappoint you.”

Zami scowled at her, pressing his arms tighter into his chest.

“No, I’m just wonderin’ how in da name of da Loa you managed to live to be 300 years old.”


	31. The Apology, Part 1

“Look, there it is,” Mythene said as she ahead pointed to where the forests cleared away to reveal the road leading out of Felwood.

“And dere dey are too,” Zami said, pushing her pointing hand to match his gaze.

Very near the border road was an old ruin, probably night elven by the looks of it. Fittingly, several night elves were camped in the ruins. Each bore a familiar green choker at their neck.

“They’re waiting for us,” Mythene stated, although there was a tone of surprise in her voice.

“I hope Khail got away from dem okay,” Zami said as he put a hand on his chin, “But I ain’t too worried, he seems like a capable kinda guy.”

“Mountainwalker is...consistent, if nothing else,” Mythene glanced aside, speaking each word sharply.

Zami figured Mythene was probably still a little bit mad at Khail. They hadn’t exactly parted on the best terms. He thought remembered Khail mentioning something a while back about knowing Mythene was difficult from experience. Maybe there was some history there that he didn’t know about.

“Well, don’t worry about the Coven,” Mythene said, abruptly changing the subject, “I have a plan.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Zami shook his head, “I ain’t fallin’ for dat again. Ya just gonna get us lost in da woods again.”

“What? No,” Mythene huffed, “Besides, this is different. I didn’t have a plan before.”

“Well now you don’t have to,” Zami said as he extended his hand to her.

Mythene stared blankly at his hand. Then she looked at him, not sure what he wanted. In response, he waggled his hand at her a bit.

“C’mon, I’ll just stealth us past.”

Mythene just rose an eyebrow.

“I am absolutely not holding your hand, troll,” She said and crossed her arms.

Zami gave an exasperated sigh and set his hand onto her arm, spreading his stealth to cover them both. He was in no mood for whatever silly plan she’d come up with.

“Wha--hey! Let go!” Mythene hissed at Zami, slapping his hand away from her.

As she did, she became unstealthed when their contact was broken. And unfortunately, it happened to be at the same time when one of the Emerald Coven night elves looked over in their direction.

“Mythene!” The night elf shouted and pointed in Mythene’s direction, following up with some shouting in the elvish language.

“Now look what you did,” Zami sighed, slapping his hand over his face despite the fact that she couldn’t see him.

The night elves quickly mobilized from their camp and began to hurry towards Mythene, shouting at her in elvish and waving their weapons.

“Okay, you win, troll,” Mythene said quickly and held her hand out, “I’ll take your hand now.”

“Well, I dunno if I wanna now,” Zami said nonchalantly, crossing his arms.

“Troll,” Mythene growled, flicking her eyes over to the approaching group of night elves, “Come on. We have no time for this nonsense. Just give me your hand already!”

“Mmm, fine…” Zami uncrossed his arms, “But only if you say sorry.”

“You want me to apologize?” Mythene scoffed, “Whatever for?”

Zami felt his expression slacken a bit. He’d only intended to mess with her for a moment, as a little joke. But something about her incredulous tone made Zami realize she still didn’t think she’d ever done anything wrong. And it made him realize that she’d probably only given that semi-apology before out of some misguided pride thing for her status as a teacher, not out of actually feeling sorry for the things she’d said.

That made him angry. Angrier than he’d anticipated.

“You wanna know what to apologize for?” He said slowly, glancing down, “Everything. I want an apology for everythin’ you done so far. You still owe me one.”

“What? Are you seriously going to do this now?” Mythene scrunched up her face, “Well, you can simply cast the thought from your mind, troll. I refuse. I owe you nothing.”

The Emerald Coven night elves were nearly upon her now, mere feet away. Zami quickly looked between the cultists and Mythene, who just crossed her arms defiantly. Seeing as she’d clearly rather die than just apologize, Zami sighed and extended his hand to her. As angry as he was, he couldn’t just leave her to die. He’d never get an apology that way. Grabbing her roughly by the forearm, he pulled her out of the way of the cultists. Holding his breath, he then backed them both up against a nearby tree and out of the way of the night elves, who stopped and looked around in confusion at Mythene’s sudden disappearance.

The night elf in charge shouted to the others in elvish, pointing in different directions. The cultists quickly split up, searching the immediate area. When the cultists had drifted far enough, Zami finally exhaled again. He then shot an angry glance at Mythene, who glanced aside defiantly. While looking down at her in frustration, he almost wished he’d just let her get captured. Well, almost. A little bit. No, not really. He sighed quietly, wishing he was cruel enough to just let her die. He just wasn’t that person anymore.

Neither of them spoke as they stealthed their way right over the border and into Ashenvale. Zami, quite frankly, had nothing to say. He supposed it was a little bit unfair to demand an apology right when he had, but he hadn’t intended to take it seriously at the beginning. He’d just wanted to mess with her a little. How could he have known she’d basically recant everything she’d said before, about how she wanted to try and teach him without letting her prejudice against trolls get in the way? Was that just a lie? The thought infuriated him.

As they continued to walk down the road, the sight of an active volcano came into view. Lava continuously trickled down the sides and fire elementals ghosted about the surface. Zami stopped short, not having expected such a sight in the middle of the otherwise idyllic forest region. Mythene followed his gaze, looking to where he was.

“Thunder Peak,” She said quietly, “It erupted after the Cataclysm.”

Zami didn’t respond and just lowered his stealth, making them both visible again. Then he finally released her arm, which he had pretty much been dragging her by the whole way.

“The elemental Lord Magmathar reigns over the mountain,” She continued tentatively, “His goal is to burn down the forests, but the Sentinels have held him back---”

“I don’t care,” Zami interrupted, glancing over at her coldly.

Mythene fell silent, glancing aside. She interlaced her fingers in front of her, almost appearing anxious. She went to speak but hesitated, closing her mouth. The rest of their walk to Astranaar continued in that uncomfortable silence.


	32. The Apology, Part 2

A night elf in armor shouted something in Common, holding out her hand while the other held a sword pointed towards Zami. He held up his hands defensively as Mythene stepped in front of him. The two elves exchanged a conversation in either Common or elvish, Zami didn’t really know which. It wasn’t like he could speak either one.

The sentinel squinted at Zami suspiciously before lowering her sword and stepping aside. Mythene bowed her head to the sentinel, no doubt uttering some phrase of gratitude, before leading Zami into the town.

It was a strange feeling, walking freely inside of an Alliance town. He’d been in plenty of places that had Alliance soldiers walking about before, but those were all neutral towns like Ratchet or Booty Bay. Even Moonglade still at least had all those Tauren about. But being in Astranaar felt like being a creature from another planet. Everywhere he looked, there were night elves. And they all seemed to be looking right back at him, muttering amongst themselves.

“I explained that you are with the Cenarion Circle,” Mythene said, finally breaking the silence between them, “She found the existence of a troll druid highly suspect, but she agreed to let us in when I mentioned my sister.”

“Ca’sen, right?” Zami said as he glanced around, “Da warrior?”

“Correct,” Mythene nodded.

There was a strange coldness to their conversation. It wasn’t exactly as though they’d been all too chummy before, but their interactions with one another now felt especially terse. Zami couldn’t tell if it was better or worse. On the one hand, she wasn’t outright insulting him. But on the other hand, it just felt...awkward.

“Here we are,” Mythene looked up at a building, “The sentinel at the gate said this was the barracks, and Cassene should be here.”

The two of them entered the barracks house and Zami found he had to stoop down as they entered, to avoid hitting his head on the doorway. He got no further than a few steps into the barracks when an arrow flew at him, followed by another. The arrows hit both sides of his leather cuirass, pinning him back against the wall.

Looking forward quickly, Zami saw a night elf who looked remarkably similar to Mythene. She had the same violet skin and white hair, although hers was bound into two matching braids over her shoulders. The markings upon her cheeks were purple like Mythene’s, but straight lines like Syrene’s. She held a bow trained right at him, a third arrow already nocked.

“Wait,” Mythene stepped between the line of fire, holding out her hands, “Sister.”

“Mythene?” The night elf, which Zami deduced was Cassene, lowered her bow before responding in Orcish, “What are you doing? Why do you protect our enemy and speak its tongue?”

Zami rolled his eyes and sighed. Great, now he was an ‘it’ again.

“He is my student.”

“Student?” Cassene looked at Zami, “But trolls are barbarians. What could you possibly teach it?”

Zami grunted at being called a barbarian, but said nothing.

“He is learning to become a druid.”

“A troll become a druid?” Cassene scoffed, “Impossible. They lack the mental capacity.”

Zami growled quietly, earning him a wary glance from Cassene. Her words were as annoying and offensive as Mythene’s had been, yet in concentrate and therefore twice as irritating.

“I thought so as well,” Mythene continued, “But he is proving...more capable than I initially assumed. Not to mention, his eye…”

Cassene perked an eyebrow.

“What about its eye?”

“He can look directly into the Emerald Dream.”

“Impossible,” Cassene shook her head, “Even Malfurion cannot see into the Dream without meditating.”

“I know it sounds unbelievable,” Mythene looked over at Zami, “But it’s true. For whatever reason, this troll was granted that power.”

“So this is Syrene’s precious Emerald Seer?” Cassene laughed, pointing at Zami, “This is the one she claims will restore Cenarius and Malorne? What a joke.”

Cassene, still laughing, approached Mythene and pulled her into a hug. Mythene hesitated a moment before returning it.

“It has been too long, Mythene,” Cassene said with a smile, “You look well.”

“As do you,” Mythene returned the smile, “I hear you’re a Captain now.”

“Yes, I received a promotion after I helped to sabotage the orcs’ tree-killing machines.”

“But wouldn’t that require you to go all the way to their camp?”

“Yes,” Cassene nodded, “It was dangerous, but I managed to infiltrate---”

“Hey Mi’ten’s sista,” Zami interrupted, wiggling around, “Can you get dese arrows out now? I can’t really move.”

Cassene shot Mythene a sympathetic look, as though giving her pity for having to put up with Zami, and moved over to him. She removed the arrows and returned them to her quiver, though she continued to eye him suspiciously as she did so. Zami more or less ignored her, instead looking down to his leather cuirass to check it for potential damage. His armor wouldn’t exactly be useful with holes in it.

“Here,” Cassene said as she picked up a thick green cloak and threw it at Zami, “This should help to keep from attracting extra attention, as much as one might be able to. If you keep your head down, you’ll hopefully just be mistaken for a very tall night elf.”

Zami grunted as the cloak hit him in the face and he spent a moment untangling it from his tusks with a scowl. After he put it on, drawing it over his head, it became blatantly apparent that the cloak was too short for him. While it might’ve reached the ground for a night elf, it only reached the calves on a troll. Which meant his very obviously troll feet were still visible, and the whole point of the cloak was kind of defeated. 

Seeing no point in even bothering with it anymore, Zami started to shrug the cloak off when Cassene tossed a pair of boots in front of him. He shot her a rather incredulous look.

“These are the largest size we have,” She said flatly, “Make them work.”

“What?” Zami rose his eyebrows, “You gotta be jokin’ wit me, right?”

“Do I look to be joking?” Cassene said in a similarly flat tone.

“Uh, maybe you never met a troll before,” Zami chuckled, “But we, uh, we don’t do shoes.”

“Well you do now,” Cassene narrowed her eyes at him.

“Uh, no. I don’t,” Zami said as he removed the cloak, “No way.”

“Then how, pray tell, are we going to hide the fact that you’re a troll?”

“I dunno, maybe don’t,” Zami shrugged emphatically, “I ain’t here as part of the Horde, I’m here wit da Cenarion Circle. Dat’s different, right?”

“Perhaps, but come now,” Cassene put a hand on her hip, “Do you truly expect anyone to believe that a troll could become a druid?”

Zami exhaled deeply in frustration. It was like they were going in circles. 

“But I am a druid,” He sighed, “Whether I wanna be or not.”

“Then prove it. Shapeshift into something.”

“I can’t,” Zami grumbled, “I dunno how.”

“What kind of druid doesn’t know how to shapeshift?” Cassene scoffed before turning to Mythene, “Sister, make the savage obey.”

“Savage?” Zami growled, though Cassene ignored him.

“Um,” Mythene cleared her throat, glancing between Zami and Cassene, “Maybe...the troll is right.”

“What?” Cassene and Zami both said in unison, equally surprised.

“W-Well, maybe...it could allow people to become more...accustomed to seeing troll druids. I mean, he isn’t the only one…”

Cassene looked at her sister almost incredulously, before throwing up her hands in exasperation.

“Fine,” She sneered, “But the troll stays with you at all times.”

She grabbed Zami by the strap of his cuirass and roughly pushed him into Mythene, nearly knocking her over. Luckily, Zami managed to catch himself on the wall just before his tusks had their reunion with her head. Mythene was still thrown off balance and almost went over anyway, but Zami grabbed her by the arm before she could go down.

“Thank you,” She murmured, brushing his hand away as she regained her balance.

“It is your responsibility to keep it out of trouble,” Cassene continued, “If it tries to harm anyone within Astranaar, I will not hesitate to put the beast down.”

Zami growled again at being discussed like he was a wild animal or a pet or something. He had thought Mythene was bad, but her sister seemed to be leagues worse. It really made him wonder if all night elves were this uppity, or if it was just their family that was so unbearable.

Cassene turned away, sweeping out of the barracks and disappearing in an instant.

“...Well,” Zami said after a moment, “I think I like your insane cultist sista betta, to tell da truth.”

“So did I,” Mythene mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.

The both of them exchanged an amused glance, before Mythene cleared her throat.

“By the way…” She glanced aside, “I did take notice of something, while you were… conversing with my sister.”

Zami perked an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side curiously.

“What’cha mean?”

“Is ...Is that how I speak to you, as well?” She asked quietly, still looking away.

Zami shrugged a little.

“Eh, sorta? Sometimes, I guess. Maybe not so bad. Not so great, either, though.”

Mythene was quiet for a moment, perhaps lost in thought. Then she turned over to look at Zami.

“Well, in that case ...I apologize.”

Zami blinked at her few times, unsure he’d heard correctly.

“I did not realize,” She sighed, “It took viewing my own rhetoric from the outside to notice how uncouth it truly is.”

Zami found himself at a bit of a loss for words. He hadn’t really ever expected to get this far, in terms of getting an apology out of her.

“You trolls may have ...primitive culture, but you do have a culture nonetheless. It seems to be difficult for my people to understand any culture different than our own.”

Zami grunted at being called primitive, but he decided to let it slide since she seemed to be overall sincere. Hopefully, this time it wouldn’t just be another batch of empty words.


	33. Painful Memory

“Now pay close attention,” Mythene said as she gestured her hand over the small potted flower, its leaves dull and wilting.

She closed her eyes and a white light began to glow from her palm. Then the dying flower began to glow with the same white light. Gradually, the color returned to the petals and the stem straightened back up. In a moment, it went from a limp weed on the verge of death, to a vibrant and blossoming flower.

“Whoa…” Zami mumbled, crouching down to peer closely at the flower in her hand, “Dat’s amazin’ Mi’ten!”

“Oh, please, it is only a simple rejuvenation spell,” Mythene shrugged dismissively, though she had a proud smile, “Would you like to give it a try?”

“Me?” Zami blinked at her, “Ah, dere’s no way. I can’t even do dat thing wit da roots.”

“Why don’t you just try and see what happens?”

Mythene passed a second potted flower over to him. This poor little flower was even worse off than the first. It looked like it hadn’t been watered in years and all the color had drained from its petals.

“Well, okay den…” Zami held his hand out to the flower, “Do I...what do I…?”

“Close your eyes...er, eye, I suppose, and then try to calm your mind. Empty your thoughts.”

Zami did as instructed. Or, at least, he tried to. He’d always had such difficulty in clearing his mind. It was the same reason he had such difficulty in falling asleep. There was just too much to think about, too many worries to consider. Even so, he tried to push his thoughts away. They wouldn’t go very easily. He furrowed his brow, squinting his eyes shut tightly, almost like he was trying to physically push the thoughts away from his head. When that didn’t work, he opened his eye and looked over at Mythene.

“I can’t do it,” He sighed.

“Hm?” Mythene furrowed a brow, “What do you mean? We haven’t even gotten to the casting part yet.”

“No, I mean, da clearin’ my mind part,” Zami looked down at the wilted flower in his hand, “I just can’t do it.”

Mythene frowned a moment, before shrugging lightly.

“Well, perhaps we may just move on to the next step, then?”

“Sure,” Zami nodded, looking over at her.

“Alright, well, close your eyes—-eye again. Then I want you to think about pain.”

“Pain?” Zami raised an eyebrow as he closed his eye once more, “How is dat s’posta—-”

“Just do it.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll think about pain or whatever.”

“Not just any pain,” Mythene continued, “Think of the worst pain you’ve ever felt.”

Zami furrowed his brow as he listened. The worst pain he’d ever felt? That was a tough call. Maybe it had been the time he’d been stabbed in the stomach by an angry little goblin. Or maybe it was when that panther took his eye. Or maybe it was even that weird voice he’d heard in the Emerald Dream. All of those were quite painful. He supposed any of them would do, right?

But as Zami’s mind scanned all of these painful memories, one stuck. A memory of wet sand. Red sand. The tide had beat it down over and over, soaking the knees of his pants. Staining them red. He’d been knelt down in that sand. Dagger in his hand. Dagger in her heart. The seaspray had kept on hitting his face. That’s why it was wet. Not because of her blood.

“Zin’aka...” Zami mumbled under his breath, knitting his brow tightly.

He opened his eye as he heard the flower pot shatter against the ground. He looked down, seeing that he’d dropped it. His hands were shaking. What was even more surprising, though, was the flower. It had outright shriveled up and died. Maybe his eye was playing tricks on him, but he could’ve sworn he saw smoke coming from it, too. Mythene looked at him curiously, a silver eyebrow perked.

“Oh, sorry,” Zami mumbled and quickly sank down to the ground, “I’ll get dat…”

He hurriedly started to pick up the pieces of the broken stoneware flower pot. Mythene crouched to the ground next to him silently, just watching with a studious gaze. Zami glanced over at her as he reached for another broken piece of pottery, looking back just in time to see it cut his hand. He hissed in pain, recoiling his hand away. The pain faded after a second as the tiny cut regenerated. He was really glad his regeneration was back again. Going without it had been a real pain, literally.

“Well, well, look at this...pathetic sight. Is the beast failing again, sister? Why am I not surprised?”

Zami furrowed his brow as he heard Cassene’s voice from the doorway. He and Mythene both glanced up at her as she strode into the room, as haughty as can be. She was dressed in full plate silver armor carved with various swirly designs. She held a matching ornate silver longbow in her hand. She stopped to stand over the two of them, looking down at them in a way that somehow felt symbolic.

“These things take time,” Mythene said, looking over at Zami, “He is still far from being an Archdruid, but his progress is steady, if gradual.”

“Only due to your teaching, no doubt,” Cassene put a hand on her hip, “Otherwise I don’t suppose this creature would have a hope in the world of learning a single thing.”

Zami grunted in annoyance, going back to picking up the broken pieces of the flower pot. He tried to tune out the conversation. The way he figured it, Cassene’s words couldn’t bother him if he just ignored them altogether. It was a bit hard, though, after hearing what Cassene said next.

“By the way, Mythene,” Cassene looked over at her sister, “I thought that perhaps you should be warned.”

“Hm? Of what?” Mythene asked quickly, standing up.

Zami glanced up at the sisters, his curiosity piqued.

“Daras Nightwing has come to Astranaar.”

“Has he now?” Mythene pressed her lips together tightly, “How unfortunate.”

Zami perked an eyebrow, noting Mythene’s cold response. Whoever this guy was, it was pretty clear to him that Mythene didn’t like him. But then, did she really even like anybody?


	34. The Return

Zami was having a very pleasant dream about sinking his teeth into a juicy haunch of honeyed boar when he was suddenly shaken awake, and his delicious dreams disappeared. He tiredly squinted up into the darkness, seeing a half-green-tinted Mythene looking down at him on the floor. Zami mumbled something about missing meat and closed his eyes again, starting to fall back asleep. At this, Mythene gave an exasperated sigh and stepped onto his stomach.

Both the pain and having the wind knocked out of him made Zami open his eyes again, this time being a bit more conscious. He looked up at Mythene in offense.

“Hey! What’s da big ide—-”

“Quiet, troll,” Mythene cut him off. “We need make haste from Astranaar with as little attention as we can.”

Zami sat up with a quirked brow, cracking his stiff back as he did so.

“What’s dis about, Mi’ten?” He asked cautiously, “Somethin’ happen?”

“It is...difficult to explain.”

“Well why don’tcha try?” Zami shrugged.

Mythene sighed, glancing aside as she shifted uncomfortably where she stood.

“Daras Nightwing remains unaware of my presence in Astranaar thus far. I hope that we may depart from it before he takes notice otherwise.”

Zami said nothing for a moment. He’d had a feeling it had something to do with this guy. He still had no idea who this guy was, but Mythene didn’t like him so he was probably bad news. Or maybe just a non-elf.

“Who is dis Nightwing guy?” He finally asked.

“...My self-proclaimed lover.”

Zami cocked his head to the side. Mythene sighed again and blushed, her face growing a deeper purple in hue.

“Daras is ...rather enamored with me,” She explained wearily, “Nevermind all that, just get your things and prepare to depart from Astranaar.”

Zami perked an eyebrow again.

“So, wait, dis guy’s ya mate and now dat he’s here you wanna leave?”

“He is not my ‘mate’ as you say,” Mythene shook her head, “Despite that he may believe he is.”

Zami cocked his head to the side again, but gave a small nod as though he understood. Even though he didn’t really. Not that it mattered. If he had ever learned anything from Zuka and her various failed marriages, it was to never ask women too much about their relationships. He suddenly felt a soft wave of sorrow pull at his heart, thinking about his sister. Not because of Zuka, though. He knew she was fine, going about her day safe and sound in Sen’jin Village. It wasn’t her that concerned him. It was his brother.

“Well, if we gotta go somewhere else,” Zami looked up at Mythene, “...how bout Moonglade?”

Mythene went to protest but Zami continued before she could speak.

“I’m worried about Zalu. I just wanna make sure my brudda is alright. I gotta know he’s still doin’ okay.”

Mythene was quiet for a moment before giving a tacit nod of her head. After Zami gathered his things, which entirely consisted of his eyepatch and his skinning knife, he gave Mythene a nod to signal he was ready to go. He watched as she left a folded note by the bedside, perhaps for Cassene, then extended her hand to touch his shoulder. Zami felt the familiar tingling and the smell of metal, then Astranaar at once became Moonglade.

Once more, Zami was struck with a sense of familiarity upon catching sight of the verdant glade with its dusky purple skies. At least this time the familiarity was warranted. The sun still hadn’t risen yet, and it bathed the region around them in darkness. Zami found it was a comfortable darkness, not one of mystery. He couldn’t say how he could tell, but he just had a gut feeling that the danger had passed from Moonglade. He was fairly certain they wouldn’t have any issues from the Emerald Coven, at least for a little while.

As they walked along the road towards Nighthaven, movement in the forests to their left suddenly drew Zami’s eye. He glanced over, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. 

“Oh, that reminds me,” Mythene suddenly spoke up, “By now I think that your—-”

“Wait,” Zami stopped in place, hearing the rustling of leaves, “Do you hear dat?”

He looked over to the forest again, peering intently despite seeing little due to the darkness.

“Huh...musta been my mind playin’ tricks…”

“Well,” Mythene continued, “As I was saying before, I believe that by now your——!”

Mythene suddenly shrieked in surprise, jumping off to the side and crashing into Zami.

“Something just scratched my leg!” 

Zami went to speak when he heard the rustling of leaves again, this time right below him. He looked down and to his surprise, there was a flower. A rather huge one. It was almost waist high, which was a considerable feat for a flower, considering he was a troll and all. It moved about freely, extending its thorn-covered vines like arms and turning its pink blossom like a head. At the center of its flowerhead were little spikes, which almost seemed to be like a mouth. It just stood next to them, almost seeming to look up at them despite its lack of eyes. He couldn’t say why, but it seemed familiar even though he’d never seen such a thing before.

“What in da name of da Loa is dat thing?” Zami furrowed his brow, his hand moving towards his skinning knife.

In response, the flower hissed from its mouth-spikes and rose its thorny vine-arms.

“Wait!” Mythene caught his arm before he could draw the knife, making the flower pause in turn, “This is an Ally of Nature.”

“A what now?”

“It is a domesticated breed of lasher,” Mythene explained, “We grow them as protectors in Darnassus, back on Teldrassil.”

“Da big tree? Den what’s it doin’ here?”

“You mean you don’t recognize it?”

Zami looked back at the flower—-lasher, with a furrowed brow. After a moment, he realized why it looked so familiar. Bright pink petals and thick green vines.

“Wait…” He glanced over at Mythene, “Is dis…”

“Yes. This is one of the flowers you planted,” Mythene nodded, “It must’ve bloomed while we were gone. But…”

She glanced around for a moment.

“...But where are the others?”

A quick walk to the garden revealed what had happened. Without anyone to water them, the other four had wilted and never bloomed. Zami frowned and crouched down next to the garden, not really sure why he felt so unhappy about it. They were just flowers—err, lashers. Maybe it was just disappointment that all his hard work had gone to waste. As he crouched down, the lasher wiggled over next to him, staring at him. It looked to the garden and hissed softly, almost sadly.

“Can you heal dem?” Zami looked up at Mythene, “Like you did wit da potted flower?”

“I don’t know,” Mythene crouched next to him, “I can try.”

Mythene extended her hand towards the wilted lashers, closing her eyes. Her hand began to glow, and then the lashers. Yet after a moment, nothing had changed. When Mythene opened her eyes, she frowned.

“Perhaps we were too late,” She said quietly, “It appears they are already dead. There is nothing left to restore. Elementals cannot be resurrected, for they lack a soul to return to the body. I’m sorry, troll.”

“Ahh, it’s fine,” Zami shrugged, standing up.

He tried to act dismissive, though he suspected his disappointment must’ve been obvious by his face.

“At least this one survived,” Mythene nodded towards the lasher hovering by his side, “And it seems to recognize some sort of attachment to you.”

Zami looked over at the lasher curiously before standing up.

“You think it remembers me?”

“Or your voice, perhaps.”

“Huh…” Zami peered at the lasher, wondering if it actually did remember him.

“Hm? What in the world?” Mythene suddenly rose an eyebrow.

Zami looked over at her and Mythene gestured ahead of her, further up the path leading into Nighthaven. Zami looked ahead, quickly raising his eyebrows in surprise. He even rubbed his eye to make sure he was seeing correctly. Sure enough, they were really there. He had absolutely no idea why, but there were trolls in Nighthaven.


	35. A Troll's Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! I know its been a few days without posting anything! I’ve been having some hardcore writer’s block the last few days and I’ve been trying to write every day. I finally managed to get this one out, though! Hope it was worth the wait.

“Zami!” Zalu waved a hand towards his brother with a wide grin on his face, “I was worried sick about ya when dem elfs took ya away! Ya doin’ okay, mon?”

Zami nodded, approaching Zalu’s side. Mythene strode up aside him, though she clearly looked uncomfortable amidst all the trolls.

“I’m fine,” He said, looking around, “But brudda, what’s goin’ on? Who are all dese people?”

“Don’tcha recognize dem?” Zalu gestured around, “Dese are villagers from Sen’jin!”

“I know dat, but what are dey doin’ here?”

“Oh, ya won’t ever guess,” Zalu grinned, “Dey be druids, like us!”

“Huh?” Zami cocked his head to the side.

“Come again?” Mythene looked over at Zalu, “What did you say?”

“Dey all druids! All of em!” Zalu smiled wider, “I dunno everythin’ but I guess dey been trainin’ on da Echo Isles since da Cataclysm!”

“Training?” Mythene perked a brow, “But how? One cannot simply become a druid without a teacher to—-”

“Ahh you be talkin’ about Zen’Tabra,” Zalu said as he pointed over to a troll woman, “She’s da one who been teachin’ dem all.”

“Ya mean Tabra? Da witch doctor?” Zami asked, looking over to where Zalu pointed.

“Not anymore. Now she’s Zen’Tabra, da druid.”

“On whose authority does she teach?” Mythene asked suspiciously.

“Gonk’s!” Zalu grinned again, “He spoke right to her!”

“Da Great Hunter?”

“Yup! He taught her all da druid stuff himself!”

“Who is this Gonk?” Mythene perked an eyebrow.

“Da Loa of da Hunt,” Zami whispered to her.

“Vol’jin sent dem here, to join da Circle. I don’t really know da details. You gotta ask Zen’Tabra, mon.”

Zami looked over the thin crowd, his eye eventually catching sight of the troll he was searching for. It was fairly easy. She was rather tall for a female. Her skin was indigo, deep blue with a tint of purple to it. Her hair, meanwhile, was a vibrant green and pulled into a high ponytail on her head. It looked like a bundle of leaves. Fitting, he thought.

“Let us waste no time, then,” Mythene said sharply, turning to Zami expectantly, “Take me to see this Zen’Tabra.”

Zami nodded. He gradually wove a path through the crowd, with Mythene keeping close behind him. They approached Zen’Tabra, who was in the midst of conversation. Upon seeing them approach, however, she stopped mid-word and turned face to them.

“So,” She smiled to Zami, “Dis is da other one of da boys Vol’jin told me bout.”

Zami cocked his head to the side at Zen’Tabra. Boy? He was almost 30 years old…

“He says you and your brudda be da troublemakers what killed dat boy Jan’da.”

Zami rubbed his neck awkwardly as Mythene glanced over at him suspiciously. He went to speak but Zen’Tabra cut him off before he could.

“Bout time dat boy got what was comin’ to him,” She laughed, “Dat child was runnin’ wild.”

Mythene looked utterly appalled and Zami just looked utterly confused. But again, before he could speak, Zen’Tabra responded by laughing.

“I’m just playin’ wit ya, mon! Oh, ya should see da look on ya faces!” She laughed, earning equally perplexed expressions from the both of them.

“Hey, dat ain’t no joke,” Zami managed to say quickly, fearing she’d speak first again.

“Oh, da boy is fine, da priests brought him back not long afta ya two left da Village. He just learned to mind his tongue and now has an eye like ya do, to remind him in case he ever gets mouthy again.”

Zami furrowed his brow, barely registering the second half of what she said.

“...What?” He asked slowly, “Dat kid...he’s fine?”

Zen’Tabra nodded, and Zami could feel his irritation rising.

“Wait wait wait. Lemme make sure I understand,” He said through gritted teeth, “Dat boy is fine...so me and Zalu got banished...for nothin’ at all?”

“No,” Zen’Tabra put her hands on her hips, “Ya got banished for actin’ a fool and attackin’ ya own people.”

“Dat boy—-”

“Right,” Mythene suddenly interrupted, clapping her hands together, “I have no interest in discussing this personal drama. You must be Zen’Tabra, I take it?”

“Hah!” Zen’Tabra grinned, “Look at dat! Da elf can speak Orcish!”

“Yes, yes. You may be shocked and awed later,” Mythene waved a hand dismissively, “But please, save it for after you answer my questions.”

Zen’Tabra quirked an eyebrow in amusement, jutting her hip to the side.

“What’s dis? An interrogation?” She chuckled, looking Mythene up and down, “Who you s’posta be?”

“Mythene Moonshadow,” Mythene said as she extended a hand, “Leader of the Order of the Branch.”

“And what’cha doin’ here, Miss Moonshadow?”

“I am his teacher,” Mythene gestured to Zami.

Zen’Tabra nodded slowly.

“Oh, so you da one Zen’Zalu mentioned?” She raised an eyebrow, “Da ‘pretty elf’ as he says?”

“Zen’Zalu?” Zami cocked his head to the side, “You mean he earned a new name?”

“Ya both have,” Zen’Tabra smiled, “Zen’Zami.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t quite follow,” Mythene looked between the two trolls, “What is this now about names? Some sort of troll custom?”

“...Is she always like dis?” Zen’Tabra looked over at Zami, who shrugged.

Mythene just crossed her arms, waiting for an explanation. After a moment, Zami glanced over at her.

“Every troll starts off wit a short name,” Zami explained to her, “We get more names as we earn dem.”

“Dey could be a lot of things, like jobs, roles, or feats,” Zen’Tabra added, “Zen is da word for a druid.”

“Zen’Zami...” Zami muttered, mostly to himself.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He supposed it was better than the name he’d almost been given; Zami’fon. Pariah. Outcast. Loner. In comparison to what could’ve been, Zen’Zami was definitely an upgrade. But even so, the idea of carrying that around with him forever made him uneasy. He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that this whole druid thing was probably a permanent deal. But despite that, part of him withheld the hope that it would all be over soon enough and then he’d be able to go back to Stranglethorn. He knew that wasn’t realistic, especially given his eye. But he still wanted to hope.

And this new name didn’t leave much room for hope.

“It suits ya,” Zen’Tabra nodded, “Bout time ya earned somethin’ for ya name, boy.”

“Yeah…” Zami nodded, supposing there was no need to voice his displeasure, “It sounds nice…”

Mythene rose one of her long white eyebrows, glancing over at him, but offered no comment. Zami brought his hand up to his eyepatch, subtly blocking her line of sight from his face.

“Well, I should go,” Zen’Tabra sighed, “One of my druids just fell in da moonwell. I’ll catch ya later, mon!”

As Zen’Tabra hurried off to chastise the soaking wet troll, Mythene folded her arms over her chest at Zami. Her eyebrow remained perked. Slowly, he lowered his hand from his eyepatch and looked back at her.

“What?” He shrugged, “Why ya lookin’ at me like dat?”

“So trolls earn their names?” She tapped her fingers onto her forearms, “Well, your own people may consider you worthy of being called a druid already, but I know better. You are only a druid-in-training, and you shall be until I determine otherwise. So until you truly earn that name, do not expect me to call you by it.”

Zami looked over at her with an amused snort.

“Please, you don’t even call me by my name either way,” He chuckled, “It’s always just ‘troll’ dis and ‘troll’ dat.”

“Hmm,” Mythene looked about, “I suppose that would no longer be suitable, seeing as there are so many of your kind about now. It would be quite easy to mix up, wouldn’t you say...Zami?”


	36. Thirst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I got so many comments regarding it, I thought I’d clarify about the troll naming custom. Yes, the custom seems to be “canon” from what I’ve found, as you can still see the naming custom at work in World of Warcraft today. Younger and unproven trolls will always have shorter names, like Zuni, who travels with you in the beginning of the Echo Isles. I originally learned of the custom as it was introduced in detail within the Warcraft tabletop RPG. I know this is considered non-canonical at present, but as long as it doesn’t counteract the present canon, so I consider it “canon until proven otherwise” for the sake of expanded worldbuilding.

“Zen’Zalu!” Zalu grinned, before chugging down his skin of wine with reckless abandon.

Zami looked flatly over at his brother from his place at the table, squished between a bunch of other trolls that Zalu apparently had regularly invited to sit at their table while he was absent. In the all of two days he was gone, his brother had apparently gathered an entire circle of new friends and began courting at least three different women.

“Ahh, I missed dis!” Zalu laughed, dropping the empty leather wineskin onto the table, “Now who has da next one?”

One of the other trolls at the table handed Zalu another wineskin, this one full and bursting with wine. As Zalu opened it and began to take a swig, Zami sighed loudly. That gave his brother pause and he looked across the table to him.

“Oh, I’m sorry, brudda,” Zalu held the skin out to him, “Here. Help ya self!”

“No thanks,” Zami looked at him flatly, “You know I don’t drink, mon.”

The little group around the table each loudly voiced their protests to Zami. At the same time.

“Alright, alright, settle down,” Zalu waved to them, “He got his reasons. One of our bruddas was a drunk, died cause of it.”

“Dat ain’t why,” Zami muttered, though his words were overshadowed by the drunken group practically shouting their condolences.

Zami sighed again as the conversation then veered off into something else. He was unable to keep up with their drunken rambling and ended up tuning them out. As he propped his chin onto his hand, his eye wandered across the room, examining the other occupants. Each corner of the room was broken up into its own little section, it seemed. The trolls in one corner, and the tauren in the one opposite that. In the other two corners, the worgen and the night elves each respectively gathered. 

Zami’s gaze stopped on Mythene, who was sitting over in the farthest corner with the other night elves. He could see she was speaking to the elf beside her, but her words were inaudible to him over the distance and the din. He supposed it didn’t matter. They were probably speaking elvish anyway. Even so, Zami found himself wondering what night elves spoke of in confidence to one another. But he wondered most of all what she would tell them about him. Did she brag about him, and in turn boast about her own teaching skills? Or did they share laughter at his expense? He presumed it was the latter.

As he was looking across the way, one of the trolls he was squished between moved her arm and ended up elbowing him in the side. She muttered a quick and slurred apology to him and then immediately went back to the revelry. Zami grunted, leaning away from the table. By now, it looked like everyone had gotten themselves nice and drunk. They were all slurring and shouting over each other and knocking into each other clumsily. He grunted in annoyance as another troll ended up hitting him in the shoulder. Finally, after the female troll beside him ended up spilling half of her drink on him without even noticing, Zami had enough.

He stood up, earning the notice of no one at the table. Not even Zalu, who was probably more sloshed than the rest of them. He did have those self-control issues, after all. Sighing in frustration, Zami moved away from the table. The smell of alcohol was drowning him at that table anyway. It permeated through the entire troll corner of the inn. Apparently, they’d decided to bring some wine with them from Sen’jin Village. And plenty of it. As a result, nearly all of the trolls present were drunk and raucous. Zami was neither. He didn’t want all these people around. He wasn’t in the mood for celebration. He just wanted to talk to Zalu, tell him about everything that had happened. But judging by the slur to his words and the way he rocked back and forth in his seat, Zami knew that Zalu wouldn’t be able to retain any of it. Not anymore. Maybe tomorrow, but not tonight.

Zami wandered over to the doorway, stepping outside in front of the inn. The fresh, crisp night air was welcome. It definitely beat the overbearing stench of alcohol. That always made his nose itch anyway. Nighthaven was quiet outside of the inn, which he found agreeable. Most of the inhabitants seemed to be either asleep or at the inn. As a result, he found himself as alone as he desired to be.

Zami wandered over to one of the benches near the moonwell, taking a seat with a quiet sigh. His hand ghosted up to his eye patch, his thoughts jumbled. He supposed it was only just beginning to sink in, the gravity of this whole situation. He figured his new name was to blame.

“Zen’Zami,” He mumbled to himself, “Da druid…”

He sighed again, leaning back tiredly onto the bench. His eye stared up towards the starry purple sky overhead. The moon was about half full now. Had it really been so long since he’d been camped in Mulgore? It felt so long ago, and being back in Stranglethorn had been even longer ago. And yet he’d been in the jungle less than three weeks ago. Not even a month, and so much had already happened to him. It was utterly exhausting.

Zami heard the rustling of leaves beside him and glanced over. The lasher was standing beside him, wiggling in place as it often did. 

“Oh, it’s just you,” Zami sighed, “Hey, boy…err, girl? Do flowers even...ahh...whateva...”

In response, the lasher waved one of its spiked vine-arms at him. Zami perked an eyebrow, sitting up in surprise.

“Did...Did you just wave at me?”

The lasher nodded its flowerhead up and down. Zami cocked his head to the side.

“So ya really can understand me…” He muttered, leaning forward to peer down at the lasher, “So Mi’ten was tellin’ da truth, huh? But how do ya hear wit no ears?”

The lasher shrugged both of its vine-arms, as if suggesting it didn’t know.

“Ya know, you can’t even talk and you still be a betta conversation dan my brudda,” Zami said with a tired chuckle, “Bet ya don’t drink, though.”

The lasher moved around beside him, pointing behind him and making a soft hissing noise. Zami looked to where the lasher pointed, looking at the moonwell.

“Ohh, I get it,” He nodded, “Ya thirsty, huh?”

The lasher nodded.

“I don’t think ya s’posta drink dat water, though,” He pointed to the moonwell, “It’s got dat glowin’ stuff in it.”

The lasher made a sad coo.

“But ya know, dere’s a whole lake outside da town,” He nodded in the general direction of Lake Eluna’ara, “Dat’s what I always used to give you water from.”

The lasher hissed excitedly, waving its vine-arms. It wrapped the tips of its vines around his leg, attempting weakly to pull him. Zami winced and stifled a groan as the thorns pierced deeply into his flesh.

“A-Alright, alright,” He said as he stood up, “Let’s go get ya some water, I guess...”

The lasher finally released his leg and made an excited coo. The pain radiating down his leg faded in moments and Zami silently thanked the Loa for returning his regeneration. He reached down and smeared away the blood, wiping his hand on his pant leg, before nodding to the lasher.

“Okay, let’s go.”

The lasher made repeated rhythmic hisses as they walked down the road out of Nighthaven, as though it were singing or something. When they arrived at the shores of Lake Elune’ara and it saw the vast pond, the lasher threw up its vine-arms and flailed them excitedly. Zami couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Here,” Zami crouched down, picking up a very familiar bucket from near the shoreline.

He scooped up a bucket full of the crystal blue water, bringing it over to the lasher’s side. It hissed in joy as he spilled the water down over it. The lasher quickly dug its roots into the ground and drained all the water that had been spilled, creating a dry patch in the soil. Zami noted in surprise that the roots were actually functional. He also noticed that the lasher became more vibrant in color after absorbing the water.

“How’s dat?” Zami chuckled, “Much betta, huh?”

The lasher hissed in agreement, nodding its head.

“Hmm, maybe I should give you a name,” Zami set his thumb against his chin, “How about…”

He paused, thinking for a moment.

“Ah, I got it,” He nodded, “How about I name you after dis forest troll I knew back in da day? Ran’do was his name. How’s dat?”

The lasher curled its vine-arms at its sides, looking like someone putting its hands on its hips.

“Don’t like it huh? What, ya want a girl name?” Zami cocked his head to the side, “Well, I dunno any forest troll girls.”

Zami furrowed his brow in thought and rubbed his chin, trying to think of something suitable. The lasher mimicked his pose.

“Well you don’t give me much to work wit, ya know. All I know is you be a lasher.”

The lasher pointed at him.

“What, you want me to call you Zami too?” He chuckled.

The lasher suddenly nodded enthusiastically, clapping its vines together.

“What? No no, dat was a joke. We can’t both be Zami, ya silly thing.”

The lasher hissed sadly, drooping a bit.

“But, ya know…” Zami crossed his arms, “Ya do remind me a lot of my brudda Zeni. He was always whinin’ about somethin’ or other, actin’ all sad.”

The lasher perked back up, waving its vines again. It nodded its flowerhead several times.

“What? Ya like dat name?” Zami perked an eyebrow, “Zeni?”

The lasher nodded vigorously.

“Well…” Zami cocked his head to the side, “I guess there ain’t no harm. Besides, you be like my kid basically, right? So I guess it wouldn’t be too out there, namin’ you after my brudda.”

The lasher hissed happily and Zami nodded back.

“Alright den, Zeni it is.”


	37. The Dream, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things! First thing, my brother got married today! Yay!
> 
> Second, I decided to go into WoW and take screenshots of characters meant to look like each character in the book, including Zami’s parents! Head on over to my profile for the link!

When Zami returned to the inn, it was conspicuously silent. Only the sound of gentle snoring, here and there. The trolls were all passed out across the inn. To his surprise, there were plenty of tauren and worgen sleeping right among them. The night elves were all absent, he noted. Excluding Dargon, who was leaning against the counter, of course. Zami nodded to him in greeting as he passed by on his way upstairs. Like Thulbek back in Stranglethorn, Dargon never seemed to leave his post. He had to give them credit, the innkeepers of Azeroth were very dedicated to their jobs.

When Zami arrived up on the top floor of the inn, he eyed Zalu’s sleeping mat and sighed tiredly. With a quiet grumble, he went over to Zalu---and the two troll women sleeping on either side of him---and haphazardly tossed a blanket at them. Then he moved over to one of the tiny purple beds, sitting down on it. He unbuckled his armor, piece by piece, and set it aside. First the bracers on his wrists, then the spaulders on his shoulders, then the cuirass over his chest, and finally his leg cuffs. With a glance over at Zalu’s ‘company’ snoring beside him, Zami decided not to undress further as he normally did while sleeping, deciding to keep on his underclothes and his studded leather pants. Under his armor, he wore a simple brown linen shirt. Last but not least, he removed his eye patch. 

Zami wasn’t really one for jewelry, but he did wear a necklace underneath his cuirass. On it, he carried one tooth from each beast he’d ever killed. The first had been the fang of a raptor. The second was the broken off tusk of a boar. He didn’t remember the order of the rest, but there were also the fangs of a crocolisk, gorilla, shark, panther, and tiger. He was most proud of the exotic horn he’d scalped from a troublesome draenei. But the most treasured of all was the broken tusk he’d taken from the only one he hadn’t killed himself. It had belonged to his best friend; Ran’do, the forest troll.

Zami moved his hand down, picking up the broken old tusk and rubbing his thumb across it nostalgically. It was funny, he thought. He had so many brothers, and yet Ran’do had felt more like a brother than all of them. Even now, he mourned his friend more than his brothers. But he supposed that was reasonable. Save for Zoji, he held little love for any of his siblings. But for Ran’do, he would’ve fought Bwonsamdi himself. That was what made his death especially painful.

Zalu snorting is his sleep made Zami look up with a start, immediately broken out of his thoughts. With a gentle sigh, he lowered the necklace back down to his chest and slid down to the floor. He laid down on his own sleeping mat, curling up with a blanket. After a bit of tossing and turning, his mind finally quelled enough for him to fall asleep.

He dreamed of the jungle. But it wasn’t Stranglethorn. It was different, somehow. It wasn’t Un’goro, either. He couldn’t explain how, but he just knew that it was somewhere he’d never been before. The skies were a deep, dusky blue yet the sun shone bright, and mist hid the trees beyond the immediate area. The ground before him lit into a pathway, a glowing green trail amidst the thick grass. Curiously and cautiously, Zami decided to follow it.

As he walked along, he began to hear a sound of rumbling like thunder. Soon he found himself standing by the base of a majestic waterfall. As he was looking up, admiring the view, he heard a distant crash in the jungle behind him. He flinched and reached for his knife on instinct. Yet nothing was there. No knife. No armor. He was still in his underclothes! Cursing under his breath, Zami crouched down to the ground and stealthed himself as another crash shook the ground. It sounded closer this time. He didn’t know what it could be, but he knew it was something huge, and it was coming right for him!

Birds took flight into the sky above the treetops, which shook as this mysterious force approached him. Zami clenched his fists anxiously and waited with bated breath. Suddenly, the mysterious force stopped by the trees right before him, just beyond the mists. Zami squinted, trying to get a better view. Only then did he realize he had both eyes open, and everything still looked normal. Curious, he thought.

Suddenly, a faint growling noise came from the trees in front of him. Then it was followed by a warm breeze, and then a second breeze, and then a third. Zami felt his blood run cold as he realized it must’ve been some kind of massive creature, and it was sniffing him. His eyes quickly darted around before catching on the water. Yes, that would work, he thought. He silently stepped back into the water, mindful not to splash even the tiniest bit. It was ice cold, but he forced himself to push himself back into the water and below the surface. That would be the only way to mask his scent.

Zami held his breath below the water, only then coming to realize the short-term nature of his solution. He held out for as long as he could, but soon enough he felt his lungs burning and his head throbbing. It was enough to risk breaking back up above the surface. He gasped for air, quickly looking around for any sign of the creature. When he saw nothing, he sighed gently in relief, sitting back into the water. It must’ve wandered off, he figured.

It was strange how real this dream felt, Zami thought to himself as he sat up to crouch on his knees. He rose his hand from the water and examined it, watching the little beads of water drip down across his skin. He watched them fall for a moment, marveling at the details his mind could conjure up, before his eyes refocused on something behind his hand. He couldn’t help but gasp. From the jungle, piercing through the mists, were two giant glowing blue eyes.

And they were staring right at him.

Zami felt a warm breeze over him again and winced. There was nowhere to run now. He had no weapon and limited visibility. Not to mention he had no idea where he was. 

He then remembered it was a dream, of course, and there was nothing to fear. Even so, was so realistic that he couldn’t help his tension.

Suddenly, Zami heard a deep, echoing voice from before him in the mists. It chuckled. Laughed at him. Zami furrowed his brow. Was this supposed to be symbolic or something?

“Interesting…” The voice growled as its laughter died down, its words in Zandali.

“H-Huh?” Zami widened his eyes in surprise, shocked the creature could speak, “What…”

“You. You are interesting.”

“Y-You can speak?”

“I can do many things.”

Zami furrowed his brow.

“What...Who are you? And what do you mean, I’m interesting?”

The creature chuckled again.

“I find it interesting that you kneel before me, and you don’t even know who I am.”

The trees rustled aside as a massive raptor nearly the size of a devilsaur emerged through them, coming to stand upon the water’s edge before him. Upon its head was a massive golden headdress decorated with horns. Through it, the devilsaur’s glowing blue eyes pierced into him, making him feel both small and strong at once. It didn’t take a genius to realize who he was looking at.

“I know you...” Zami quickly lowered his head in respect, “...Great Hunter.”


	38. The Dream, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to change a little of the wording at the end of the last chapter because although Gonk does appear as a huge raptor, it might not be quite large enough for Zami to mistake for a devilsaur. Especially since he’s been to Un’goro before and seen the real deal!

“Yes, it is I,” Gonk nodded his giant head, “Now rise.”

“Wh-What can I do for you, Great Hunter?” Zami asked as he obediently lifted his head and stood up.

“I feel you have forgotten the task I have lain before you.”

“Never,” Zami quickly shook his head.

“Then why do you take so long?” Gonk lowered his head to lock eyes with Zami, “Do you intend to make me...wait?”

“No, of course not!”

“Then why do you not complete the task I have given you? Were the visions unclear?”

“A little,” Zami mumbled, “B-But that’s Zuka’s fault! Not yours, Great Hunter!”

“Shall I punish my servant, then?”

“No!”

“No?”

“N-No. Err, you see, she’s just…” Zami rubbed his neck, “...Bad at explaining things. M-Maybe you could tell me more clearly, Great Hunter?”

“Why else would I be here?” Gonk responded, with a surprising amount of sass.

“O-Oh! Right! Ah, aha! Y-You’re so clever, Great Hunter!”

“No one likes a sycophant.”

“...Sorry.”

Gonk snorted, his hot breath nearly knocking Zami over.

“Now then,” He looked down at Zami, “I shall explain to you the reason I have drawn interest in you. But first, mortal, know that I have watched over you and your siblings for many years. Long ago, I was promised tribute.”

“Tribute…?” Zami furrowed his brow.

“Many years ago, a mortal hunter sought me. He sought to make a deal with me, so that he might come to be the greatest hunter alive. In return...”

Zami listened, growing increasingly anxious. He had a bad feeling.

“...He offered me a tribute. ‘Take one of my sons,’ he said to me. ‘They are all skilled hunters and they will serve you well.’”

Zami felt his stomach knot up even more. His bad feeling was getting much, much worse.

“‘But what use is an unproven child to me?’ I asked him. ‘I already have many great hunters to serve me. What makes your sons worthy of the Great Hunter?’”

By now, Zami was certain. There was no doubt in his mind. He knew exactly who the ‘mortal hunter’ was. What other father would use his sons as bargaining chips? It only made him want to kill him more.

“Test them,’ the hunter said, ‘When they are grown, test their skills. Prove they are worthy.’”

Gonk looked down at Zami.

“And so I did,” He continued, “And I found you the most worthy.”

“M-Me?” Zami cocked his head to the side, “But I’m no hunter.”

“No?” Gonk chuckled.

Gonk reached out with one of his claws, plucking his talon under Zami’s necklace. Zami glanced down, trying not to tremble as he eyed the Loa’s giant claw mere inches from his neck. Gonk ran his talon across the row of various fangs, horns, claws, and teeth before rescinding it. Finally, Zami felt like he could breathe again. And speak.

“B-But I’m not a hunter,” He furrowed his brow, “I-I’m not even a druid. I’m just a…”

“A what?”

“A nobody,” Zami glanced down, “I’m not one of the sons he mentioned. I can’t even use a bow. You sure you don’t mean Zalu?”

“He was tested, as were the others. He was found wanting.”

Zami looked back up as the realization suddenly struck him as everything clicked into place. That was why his brothers were dead, wasn’t it? All of them had died in some kind of combat. Even Zalu had lost his leg while fighting a bear. 

“The panther…” Zami glanced up at Gonk, “That was...you?”

“Not personally,” Gonk chuckled, “But yes. That was one of your trials.”

“One of?” Zami cocked an eyebrow, “There were others?”

“Many.”

Zami furrowed his brow, trying to think of what they could’ve been. But Gonk spoke, interrupting his thoughts.

“Perhaps you cannot use a bow, but you draw skills from many disciplines at once. You can blend with the shadows to stalk your prey, you have a natural affinity with the beasts of the land, and soon you shall learn to become one yourself. So as I said, you have been tested by the Great Hunter, and you have been found worthy.”

“Worthy of...what?”

“What indeed?” Gonk grinned, his fangs glistening in the sunlight.

Zami felt himself go pale. Not worthy of eating, he hoped.

“Of...serving you?” He asked tentatively, his eyes still fixated on Gonk’s fangs.

“Yes, among other things.”

Zami’s gaze finally broke away from Gonk’s teeth and he glanced aside. He had so many questions, he hardly knew where to begin.

“Um, Great Hunter? I have a question…”

“Yes, mortal?”

“Err, what’s this whole...Emerald Seer prophecy thing? How’s that play into all this?”

“Ahh,” Gonk nodded his head slowly, “Regarding that...I have no idea.”

“Huh?” Zami blinked up at Gonk, “You don’t?”

“Perhaps you are destined for the plans of another, as well. It is very interesting,” Gonk tilted his giant head down, “You are very interesting, mortal.”

“So you said before,” Zami rubbed his neck, not really sure if that was supposed to be a compliment or not.

“Now, regarding the task I have bestowed upon you, first you must wake up.”

“Yeah,” Zami nodded, “And then what? What must I do, Great Hunter?”

“Wake up,” Gonk repeated, “Wake up, Zami.”

“Huh?” Zami cocked his head to the side, “Great Hunter?”

“Zami! Wake up, mon!” Gonk suddenly spoke in Zalu’s voice, “Dose girls! Dey stole our stuff!”

Zami’s eyes snapped open and he looked up at Zalu, who was knelt over him. He stank of alcohol still and it made Zami’s eyes water.

“Everythin’s gone! My staff, ya armor, dey took it all!”

“Huh?” Zami blinked, sitting up a bit woozily, “What’cha talkin’ about, mon?”

“Da girls!” Zalu growled, “Da ones I brought back here? Dey took all our stuff!”

Zami furrowed his brow, sleepily turning his head to look at the bed. It was bare, though there were still creases in the blankets where his armor had been lain throughout the night. Only his eyepatch remained, knocked to the floor beside him. Quietly, he picked it up and put it on.


	39. Brothers

What do we do, mon?” Zalu whined at Zami, “Dey took it all…”

“What were their names?” Zami looked back at his brother, “They shouldn’t be hard to find if they’re still in Nighthaven.”

“I dunno,” Zalu shrugged, “How should I know? I barely know dem.”

Zami looked back at his brother flatly.

“Dey weren’t dose girls you mentioned? Two of da three ya courtin’ at da same time?”

“No no,” Zalu shook his head, “And dere be four girls I’m seein’ now.”

Zami sighed tiredly, rubbing his forehead. He stood up, casually pausing to crack his back, before turning to Zalu and smacking him in back of the head.

“You idiot,” He growled, “Why can’t you just stick to one?”

“Hey, it ain’t my fault ya can’t even get one!” Zalu rubbed his head, “And ya hit hard for an old man.”

“I ain’t dat old, and I can hit a lot harder! I’ll show you if you don’t shut up. Dis is entirely ya fault, Zalu.”

“Oh c’mon, mon, it’s all easily replaced. My staff only cost like 2 silver. Ya armor, da whole lot of it cost, what, 50 silver?”

“Maybe just da cuirass,” Zami sighed, covering his face with his hand.

“So we’ll just get more. Zuka gave us some gold, remember?”

“Yeah, mon. Why don’tcha go and get it?” Zami sighed through gritted teeth, “I’ll wait.”

He heard Zalu walk across the floor, followed by a gasp.

“Oh no! Dey stole dat too!”

“Obviously! By da Loa, Zalu, you ain’t very smart.”

“Least I’m handsome,” Zalu grumbled, “One of us gotta be.”

Zami groaned and rolled his eye, heading for the stairs down.

“I don’t got time for dis, mon. I gotta go train.”

“Why bother?” Zalu snarked, “It ain’t like ya learnin’ anything.”

Zami paused on the stairs, glancing back at Zalu.

“Oh yeah, and I s’pose you are?”

“Yeah, mon,” Zalu crossed his arms, “I’m already learnin’ to shapeshift. How bout you?”

Zami glanced aside, causing Zalu to laugh derisively.

“Uh huh, I didn’t think so!”

“Yeah, well,” Zami huffed and started down the stairs, “At least Gonk thinks I’m worthy.”

Zalu quirked an eyebrow before shaking his head, dismissing it.

“Guess he don’t know what a big disappointment ya are, den!” He called down the stairs after Zami.

Zami stopped short, quickly turning his head back at Zalu. Zalu just sneered back at him. Zami could feel his anger rising.

“I wish dat bear had took da rest of you,” He growled angrily, “Not just ya leg.’

“Yeah? Well, least I ain’t a hitman who killed children for coin!”

“No, you just do dat when dey rude to ya!” Zami turned and started ascending the stairs again.

“He ain’t dead, idiot. Zen’Tabra said---”

“You killed him, Zalu!” Zami pushed Zalu back forcefully.

It knocked him away from the railing he’d been leaning on and, without a staff to rely on, he went down. He looked up at Zami from the floor angrily.

“You killed him!” Zami yelled at his brother, “You killed him and you betta accept dat! Dere ain’t no goin’ back, no matter how much you wanna! You can’t pretend it didn’t happen, cause it did! It’s your fault and nobody else’s! You put dat knife in, and now she’s dead cause of you!”

Zalu knitted his brow in confusion as Zami suddenly went still.

“...She?”

Zami sharply turned away, his expression turning cold and stony.

“I gotta go train,” He said quietly, making his exit before Zalu could ask any questions.

As Zami arrived by the moonwell where Mythene was waiting, she perked a long white eyebrow at him.

“Interesting...attire,” She looked him up and down, “Any particular reason you chose to forgo wearing your armor today?”

“Some of Zalu’s ‘lady friends’ stole it from our room last night,” Zami mumbled, sitting down on the edge of the moonwell next to her with a sigh.

Mythene paused, glancing at him for a moment.

“Something troubling you?”

“Ah, it’s nothin’ really. Just had a fight wit my brudda,” Zami sighed.

Mythene was quiet for another moment, turning away from him. She slung her long white hair over her shoulder and began to comb her fingers through it.

“The last time I spoke with Enerion…” She said quietly, “...we were fighting.”

Zami looked over at her. Her hair hid her face, but he could feel the sadness in her voice.

“I never got to apologize to him for the cruel things I had said,” She continued, “I apologized to his grave, but a stone offers little solace.”

Zami frowned and was quiet for a moment.

“Ya know how I told you dat my brudda Zoji died? Well, he ain’t da only one. Actually, all my bruddas except Zalu are dead,” Zami sighed, “Mon, why is it dat all da worst ones live while da good ones die? Life is cruel, huh?”

“It isn’t the nature of life that brings these misfortunes into our lives,” Mythene looked over at him, “It is us. We are all cruel to each other, and so we each must bear the cruel fate we deserve.”

“I don’t wanna be da victim of someone else’s mistakes,” Zami grumbled, “I got plenty of my own.”

“As do we all,” Mythene nodded, “But you must remember, thero’shan, not to allow yourself to become blinded by anger. Fury is a is a blade that cuts both ways.”

“Wait, what did you call me?” Zami perked an eyebrow.

“Thero’shan,” Mythene explained, “It is Darnassian for student.”

“So dat’s what it’s called,” Zami chuckled, “All dis time I figured it was just called elvish. Is dat da same language as da b--”

“No, there are very different,” Mythene said sharply, “Thalassian is nothing but a cheap imitation spoken by those with tongues too clumsy for the grace of Darnassian.”

“Hah, I don’t know any of either,” Zami shrugged, “So it all sounds the same to me.”

Mythene perked an eyebrow, glancing over at him.

“Well, perhaps you could learn.”

“Huh?” Zami cocked his head to the side, “Learn what? How to speak elf?”

“Darnassian,” Mythene corrected, “And yes. In truth, I’ve been considering such for a while. Ever since we were captured. You surely must’ve noticed the Emerald Coven only spoke Darnassian. In the event that you are ever captured again, and I am not with you, perhaps it would be useful to know how to communicate with your captors.”

“Hmm, you got a point,” Zami nodded, “But what about my druid trainin’ and all dat?”

“I can teach you both at once.”

“But won’t dat be kinda hard?”

“Well,” Mythene smiled, “As you know, I do enjoy a challenge.”


	40. Talk It Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long. My writer’s block came back, hard.

Zami sat cross-legged in the grass outside of Nighthaven, resting his chin upon his hand. He watched as Mythene demonstrated various different spells, with poor little Zeni as her unfortunate target. After every demonstration, she would reward the lasher for its helpful participation by splashing a bit of water on it. Judging by its happy hissing, he figured it probably didn’t mind being blasted all too much in the end.

“As you can see,” Mythene turned to Zami, “Posture is very important. You have to make sure your feet are firmly planted to the ground, as that is your primary physical connection to nature. Understand?”

Zami nodded.

“Very good,” She nodded back, “Then I think we shall conclude today’s lesson here.”

“Already?” Zami sat up, “But it’s still early. Let’s stay a little longer, yeah?”

Mythene perked an eyebrow at him curiously, putting a hand on her hip.

“I am pleased that you are so eager to learn, thero’shan, but the sun has already set and I am tired. I have been casting for hours. Perhaps it is easy to watch my demonstrations, but it is not so easy to show them.”

Zami bit his lip, glancing aside. He didn’t want to go back to the inn. Not yet. He wasn’t ready to see Zalu again. He dreaded the conversation that would come. Or even worse, there would be total silence. 

“W-Wait, what about…” Zami furrowed his brow, “Uh, what if---”

“Zami,” Mythene rose an eyebrow, “You cannot avoid speaking to your brother forever, you do realize?”

Zami looked away again. How did she always seem to know what he was thinking so easily, he wondered. Maybe he wore his emotions on his face, too easily deciphered.

“You should just have a calm discussion and talk through your prior disagreement,” Mythene continued, drawing a sardonic laugh from Zami.

“Did ya forget we be trolls?” He crossed his arms loosely, “We don’t have ‘calm discussions’ wit each other, we just fight til somebody wins.”

“Yes, well, violence shall not resolve your disagreement.”

“You don’t dunno what it was about,” Zami grumbled.

“I don’t need to,” Mythene put a hand on her hip, “Do you forget that I have sisters? I am well aware that siblings fight, over most things large and small. Especially when forced into frequent proximity with one other.”

Zami grumbled, half-heartedly conceding her point.

“When we were young, Cassene would always tease me about my height,” Mythene shook her head, “And so I would always pull on her braids.”

Zami quirked an eyebrow curiously.

“Ya height? What, were ya a tiny kid?”

“Tiny…? Can you truly not tell?” Mythene gestured to herself.

“Huh? Tell what?”

“Ah, I suppose you would be unaware, but I am quite tall for a night elf. Taller than many men, in fact.”

Zami looked her up and down for a moment. She was about as tall as his shoulder. When he slouched, of course. But that was normal, for troll women. He’d never even give it a second thought, so familiar with women being around that height. He supposed that was why he hadn’t noticed that she was, in fact, technically taller than the average night elf.

“Oh,” Zami shrugged, “I didn’t really notice.”

“That is understandable. I am still quite short compared to you.”

“Plus I dunno many night elves,” He pointed out, “You be da only one I talk to, pretty much.”

“Well, you are rather intimidating to approach.”

Zami rose both eyebrows in surprise, and a bit of amusement as well.

“Me?” He chuckled, “Nah. You shoulda seen dis friend I had, Ran’do. Now he was an intimidatin’ troll. Da guy had lost a tusk fightin’ for his wife and had all dese scars, looked real mean cause of it.”

“Curious,” Mythene put a hand on her hip, “Fighting for his wife, you say? Was she some sort of warlord?”

“Oh, no no,” Zami shook his head, “Dat’s just what trolls do when two guys want da same girl. Dey fight each other for her.”

“How barbar---” Mythene quickly clamped her mouth shut, cutting herself off.

“Nah, you right,” Zami shrugged, “It prolly ain’t really da best way to deal wit it, but like I said before, dat’s just how trolls do it. We don’t talk, we fight.”

Internally, Zami really appreciated her efforts to be less judgy. Even if she did have a point in this case. Some of their traditions were pretty outdated, but his people clung to them anyway. Always sticking to the past and rejecting change, even if it would be for the better. The standard troll practices. The ones he always felt at odds with.

“I suppose I can understand,” Mythene put a hand on her chin, “Humans have this similar fascination, especially apparent within their literature. They all seem quite keen on this bizarre idea of a heroic knight fighting dangerous battles in a woman’s name. They seem to find it romantic. Perhaps it is a similar notion for trolls?”

“Not even close,” Zami shook his head.

“Well, even so,” Mythene crossed her arms, “I know you’re still just talking to me to stall having to speak to your brother, Zami.”

Zami glanced aside awkwardly, rubbing his neck.

“So what if I am?” He mumbled, “Maybe I ain’t in da mood to fight him yet.”

“Then talk to him,” Mythene sighed, “Just talk.”

“And say what?” He shrugged, “What’cha want me to do, apologize to him?”

“Perhaps. Do you feel that you should apologize?”

“No...” Zami looked down, “...Yeah? Maybe. I dunno.”

Mythene turned aside, running a hand through her long white hair.

“Apologizing for your mistakes is...difficult, but necessary. A situation between two people cannot be repaired, or improved, without reconciling your grievances together,” Mythene looked back at him, “Would you not agree, thero’shan?”

Zami rubbed his neck again, silently acknowledging her point. Again. He was beginning to think there was little use in trying to argue with her. She always seemed to be several steps ahead, already knowing what he was thinking and how to get her point across. He wondered if she and Zuka shared tips or something.

“Fine,” He sighed “I’ll...try to ‘talk it out’ wit him, okay?”


	41. Fighting Words

Zami reluctantly made his way towards the inn, with Mythene all but having to push him through the streets of Nighthaven.

“Dis is a real bad idea, I’m telling you, M’iten,” Zami whined under his breath, “Dis ain’t gonna go good.”

“Goddess above, you are so dramatic,” Mythene rolled her eyes, “Just talk to him. He is your brother. You will be fine.”

Zami muttered his disagreement quietly before giving a sigh, then stepped into the inn. From behind the counter, Dargon gave a silent nod of greeting in his direction before returning back to reading his book. Various quiet conversations were uttered from around the inn, speaking in many different tongues. Some he knew, but most he didn’t.

His eye moved towards the corner where most of the trolls were seated, scanning for Zalu’s familiar blue mohawk. He spotted it alone, apart from the other trolls, and at a different table than their usual. He was drinking, because of course he was. Upon seeing his brother, Zami backed up nervously. And backed right into Mythene.

“Ouch,” She hissed, “You’re going the wrong way, Zami.”

“But he’s busy, and now ain’t a good time,” Zami offered, throwing both excuses at her at once in the hopes that one might stick, “Maybe I’ll come back later?”

He turned to hurry away, to slink back to the comfortable shadows, but Mythene stood in front of him again and put a hand against his chest to stop him.

“Enough of this already,” She tsked, “You need to speak to your brother and put an end to this nonsense. Stop acting like a child. Go talk to him. Go.”

Zami sighed. As always, he had to concede to her point. Besides, it stung being on the other side of getting called childish. He glanced over at Zalu, who still drinking. Zami hesitated for a moment before approaching his brother. Mythene followed closely behind. He looked Zami up and down for a moment, before perking an eyebrow.

“What’cha want?’ He snapped.

“Uh…” Zami rubbed his neck awkwardly, “I’m, uh…”

In response to his hesitation, Mythene nudged him with her elbow.

“Um, about earlier. Ya know, all dat stuff I said,” Zami glanced down, “I’m sor---”

“Whateva, mon. I don’t really care what’cha got to say anymore” Zalu looked away, waving a hand dismissively, “Ya can go now.”

Not really sure what to make of Zalu’s reaction, Zami moved to shuffle away but Mythene gripped his shirt angrily, holding him place. Zami looked down at her as she stepped towards Zalu, in turn tugging him forward a little. He had a bad feeling.

“How can you be so rude?” Mythene scowled, “He is trying to apologize to you.”

“So?” Zalu squinted back at her, “Why do I gotta listen? Dat idiot said enough already.”

“You are his brother. You have to hear him out.”

“No I don’t.”

Mythene knitted her brow angrily, and Zalu responded likewise. Zami’s bad feeling got worse. It reminded him of Zalu and Zuka’s fights. He went to speak, to say something to break the tension like he normally would between his siblings, but Mythene spoke first.

“Listen, troll. Perhaps I do not know what your disagreement is about, but---”

“Yeah, you don’t,” Zalu growled, “So ya best mind ya own business, pretty elf. Before ya ain’t so pretty anymore.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Only if ya too stupid to leave.”

Sensing the friction between them increasing, Zami quickly stepped between them.

“Okay, okay, enough” He said sternly, “Mi’ten, just go away. Zalu, just shut up.”

Mythene huffed and threw up her hands, angrily stalking over to Dargon at the counter. Meanwhile, Zalu turned his glare instead to Zami. The look in his brother’s eyes made his bad feeling multiply out of control.

“Mon, why don’t ya be da one to shut up, huh?” Zalu scowled.

“I knew dis was a bad idea,” Zami sighed, covering his face with his hand.

“Shoulda just gone back to lettin’ da little woman speak for ya,” Zalu continued.

Zami lowered his hand and growled in frustration, shooting Zalu a warning glance. He was not in the mood for this. Shaking his head, he turned away to leave. If only Zalu hadn’t kept speaking.

“Oh, actually, dat’s funny,” Zalu chuckled sardonically, “Ya see, I thought ya liked doin’ women’s work.”

Zami let out a slow, quiet sigh, trying to still his breathing to no avail. He couldn’t hear whatever Zalu said next past his own furious heart hammering in his ears. He whirled around to face Zalu again. Then he only saw in fragments. His hand grasping a heavy mug from the table. Then the mug shattering over Zalu’s head, knocking him out cold. Then various people moving about him, trading blows with one another. Then his hand again, being pulled by someone else. When his adrenaline finally slowed enough for him to register his surroundings, he realized was ducked behind Dargon’s counter, with Mythene on one side and Dargon on the other.

“Look what you did to my inn!” Dargon growled as a flying mug shattered on the wall behind him.

“Wait, you can speak Orcish?” Zami raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Of course I can, you foolish troll!” Dargon hissed, peeking up above the counter, “You think I can’t speak to my own customers?!”

He hastily scooted back down just in time to dodge a thrown fork, which lodged into the wall.

“I see now why you were hesitant to incite this conversation,” Mythene sighed, leaning back against the counter.

“Ya think?” He scoffed, feeling more than a little vindicated, “Dis is ya fault, you know!”

“I know,” Mythene closed her eyes, “I apologize. I thought I was helping.”

Zami glanced over at her, going to say something snarky, but froze. Was she...crying?

“Uhh,” Zami blinked at her, unsure what to do.

He glanced at Dargon for help, but the innkeeper was too busy looking over the counter to notice.

“Ugh, why do they have to use the chairs? Stop breaking my chairs, you fools...” Dargon growled under his breath.

“Um, Mi’ten?” Zami furrowed his brow, moving his head aside to avoid getting struck with a passing plate, “Can you, uh, stop dat? Ya know, dat cryin’ thing?”

“I’m so sorry,” Mythene blubbered, “I’m so sorry, Enerion.”

Zami sighed, seeing she was too busy going through some kind of personal trauma thing to even hear him. He supposed there was little he could even say to make her stop. He had always found the best way to make someone stop crying was to walk away until he wouldn’t hear them anymore. It had worked out pretty well so far, though he couldn’t figure how to take that approach here. If he tried to walk away, even stealthed, he’d likely get struck with some flying object. It was safer to just stay behind cover and weather the storm.

The storm he’d created.


	42. Regrowth

It went without say, but neither Zami nor Zalu were allowed to stay at the inn any longer. This was no problem for Zalu, who preferred staying in a camp amongst his new friends. Zami wasn’t so lucky. Generally, his people preferred Zalu’s company to his and made such clearly evident. The other races, meanwhile, had little interest in harboring a troll. After a bit of persuasion, Zami ended up among the tauren.

It was a less-than-favorable arrangement, he felt. He didn’t know anyone among the tauren. He’d only known Khail, who had apparently never returned to Moonglade. Probably still hunting down that Archdruid Hamuul guy, Zami figured. That is, if he was even still alive. There was no guarantee he’d even made it out of Felwood, but Zami wanted to believe the old tauren was a lot hardier than that. 

After a few days, he came to find the situation very isolating. Few tauren had an interest in speaking to him, or sitting with him during meals. And so he sat alone in silence. It was true that he favored his time alone, but he soon came to realize that Mythene during training had become the only conversation he had with another person. His own people seemed to avoid him, always casting shady glances over their shoulders as Zalu led the group conversations. Probably turning them against him, he figured. Yes, Zalu was really so petty.

“Bah, who needs em,” Zami shrugged, gingerly picking up the roasting fish in front of him.

He’d built a little fire separate from the others on the fringes of southern Nighthaven, just beyond the walls. The area had become very familiar to him over time, and it gave a good view. He could see Lake Elune’ara across the way, the old garden he’d planted near it, and even the Shrine of Remulos to the south, faintly. Fainter still, nearly obscured by mists, Zami could just make out some sort of buildings to the far south on the other side of Lake Elune’ara. 

When the wind was just right and he squinted hard, Zami sometimes could make out some humanoid figures walking around amidst the area across the Lake, but he couldn’t make out any of the exact silhouettes, not from the distance. He’d tried asking Mythene about it before, but she had clammed up and changed the subject. Whatever was over there, she didn’t want to talk about it. And that made him curious.

“What’cha think be over dere?” Zami looked over at the little lasher next to him.

Zeni shrugged its vine-arms. Zami glanced back across the lake. The mists were thin tonight and he could see the figures walking around again.

“Maybe dey got some big secret,” Zami took a bite out of the roasted fish, “Maybe somethin’ worth goin’ to take a look at, huh?”

Zani hissed and nodded its flowerhead in agreement, rubbing its vine-arms together excitedly. It seemed to be quite the adventurous little thing.

“Alright, den,” Zami nodded back, “We’ll go over dere and see what’s da big secret.”

“Oh no you shall not,” Mythene’s voice suddenly interjected, making Zami jump with surprise.

As a result, he dropped his roasted fish into the dirt.

“Ahh, Mi’ten,” He grumbled, “Ya made me lose my dinner.”

“You cannot go to the Barrow Dens,” Mythene emerged from the darkness.

“Mon, what?” Zami glanced aside, “Why’d ya get an idea like dat? Cause I never said---”

“Yes you did,” Mythene sighed, “I heard everything.”

“Oh, I see how it be. Ya evesdroppin’ on me now? What are ya even doin’ out here dis late?”

“Stop deflecting, thero’shan,” She crossed her arms, “I could ask the same of you.”

“I...I just wanted to be alone,” Zami glanced aside, “Dat’s all. Now what about you, huh? What’cha doin’ out here?”

“I was on my way to speak with Keeper Remulos,” Mythene frowned, “My casting has--ouch!”

Both of them looked down at Zeni, who looked up at them innocently. Its vine-arms hugged around Mythene’s leg. The thorns pierced deeply into her skin. And, as far as Zami knew, she didn’t have regenerative abilities.

“Ooh, dat looks bad,” Zami grimaced as blood trickled down her leg, “Betta ya heal ya self quick.”

“I can’t,” Mythene hissed, hobbling to detach herself from the lasher, “Th-That is why I wanted to speak to Keeper Remulos. My casting has been...impeded.”

“Huh?” Zami cocked his head to the side, “What’cha mean? Ya can’t heal?”

“No,” Mythene shook her head, “D-Do you remember when I tried to teach you to heal? In A-Ashenvale?”

Zami stood up from where he was crouched by the fire and went over to her, helping her sit down.

“Yeah, what about it?” He asked, looking down to quickly examine her leg.

“Y-You cannot cast, when your mind is not clear of---ouch! Don’t touch it!”

“Sorry,” Zami mumbled, withdrawing his hands.

“Needless to say,” Mythene frowned, “My mind has…not been clear.”

Zami glanced at her face quickly, recalling how she had suddenly burst into tears back at the inn. She’d mentioned her brother’s name, and he figured it had something to do with that. Perhaps the anniversary of his death or something like that.

“Yeah,” Zami said softly, “I get it, mon.”

Zeni stood beside them and hissed in consolation as well.

“So what we gonna do about ya leg?” Zami looked at her, “Who in Nighthaven can heal you?”

Mythene vigorously shook her head, glancing aside with a panicked look in her eyes.

“No, we cannot go to Nighthaven! We simply cannot! No one can know that I cannot cast! After all, how can the leader of the Order of the Branch not heal?! If I cannot heal, I have no purpose! If I have no purpose, I am not needed! And if I am not needed, I should not be here because then I’m just wasting everyone’s time and---”

“Whoa whoa, easy,” Zami cut her off, “Take a breath, woman.”

Mythene inhaled deeply, stilling herself.

“No one can know that I cannot heal.”

Zami furrowed his brow.

“Mi’ten, I’m sure dat nobody’s gonna---”

“No one can know,” She repeated firmly.

“Fine,” Zami rolled his eye, “Den what we s’posta do? You just gonna limp around everywhere? Tryin’ to be da new Zalu?”

“Keeper Remulos could heal me,” Mythene glanced aside.

“Maybe, but you know saw what da guy did to my brudda when he asked for healin’ right? Dat idiot still got a little plant growin’ where his leg s’posta be.”

“W-Well then, maybe I could...” Mythene looked about before her gaze settled on Zami.

“What?” He blinked back at her.

“You could heal me,” She offered.

“What?” Zami repeated, perking an eyebrow, “But I can’t even do dat stuff. Remember what happened to da plant?”

“It’s still worth a try, don’t you think?”

“But Mi’ten---”

“Just try,” Mythene sighed, interrupting him, “What is the harm in trying?”

“Fine, but dis ain’t gonna work,” Zami shook his head.

Mythene gestured to her leg.

“Just try your best, thero’shan,” She said, trying to sound more supportive than desperate.

She wasn’t very good at it.

“Are you ready? Then think of something painful...just, maybe not as painful as last time.”

Zami sighed and crouched in front of her, holding out his hands towards her as he closed his eye. He tried to think of something painful, only in the physical sense. He settled for focusing on the time he got stabbed in the stomach. He couldn’t help but scowl, remembering that grouchy little goblin. How in the world did that guy call himself a priest?

“You have a thought? Good,” Mythene said tensely, “Then think of...releasing the pain. T-Take a d-deep breath...then exhale, and let it...carry away on the wind.”

Zami took a deep breath, as instructed. And then he exhaled slowly, emptying his lungs. As he did so, his thoughts shifted away from the pain of having a sword plunged into his stomach and turned to black. Then purple. Then he realized that was just light shining from beyond his eyelids. Slowly, he cracked open an eye to see his hands aglow. To his genuine surprise, the puncture wounds on Mythene’s leg closed and faded. Then so did the light from his hand.

“You did it, thero’shan,” Mythene smiled up at him.

“I...I did it?” Zami cocked his head to the side.

“Yes, you did it. ” She nodded, “Well done, Zami.”

Slowly, Zami smiled back.


	43. Tongues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took a few deductive liberties with both languages, mostly with the Zandali. Just went by what I could see from some pictures of the languages in-game, parts of known translations, and the overall sounds of the languages. Also, for those who don’t know, Nerglish is the language of the Murlocs and, yes, it is an actual language in the lore.

Zami was seated at a little teeny tiny table, his knees scrunched up to his chest. He glanced down, past his knees, at the tabletop as Mythene set a large stack of books before him.

“What’s all dis?” He cocked his head to the side, “Why ain’t we trainin’ outside?”

“Today, thero’shan,” Mythene set her hand atop the tower of books, “You will begin to learn the Darnassian language.”

“Ugh,” Zami groaned, resting his chin atop his knees, “Do I gotta do dis now? I was makin’ good progress wit da druid stuff.”

“I felt that you earned a suitable break from exercising your body,” Mythene pulled one of the books aside, “Now you shall exercise your mind.”

“Ugh, you sound like such a teacher when you say dat,” Zami grumbled.

“Shan’do,” She smiled.

“Huh?”

“Shan’do,” She repeated, “That is how you would address me as your teacher.”

“I think I’ll stick wit Mi’ten.”

“Suit yourself. Now, I have an important question. Don’t get angry.”

Zami quirked an eyebrow as Mythene pushed the book before him.

“Can you read?” She asked slowly, gesturing to the book, “This is in Orcish. Can you understand this?”

Zami looked at her flatly.

“Yeah, Mi’ten, I can read.”

“Orcish?”

“Yeah. And Zandali too. And I know a couple words in Goblin too.”

“Ah, does that not use the Common alphabet?” Mythene asked as she began to flip through a separate book.

“I dunno,” Zami shrugged, “I ain’t speak Common.”

“Yes yes, right here. See? They both use the Common script,” Mythene pointed to her book, which shown various different languages.

Zami glanced at the book. There were many different languages he recognized from exposure, though he could not comprehend them. He saw there was Goblin, of course. And Orcish. He also noted there was a third language using the Common alphabet, which he recognized as the Gutterspeak the Forsaken often used. He’d seen it plenty of times before in Undercity. He was less familiar with some of the other languages.

“Look here,” Mythene turned the book towards him, “This is Darnassian. See the flowing script?”

“Ah, I seen dat before,” Zami nodded towards it, “In Silvermoon, I think.”

Mythene scowled, glancing over at him.

“No no. What you must’ve seen was Thalassian, the inferior tongue of the Sin’dorei,” She corrected him, “It uses the same script and some words are identical, but it is merely a lesser imitation of Darnassian.”

“Ah,” Zami clicked his tongue, “So ya be meanin’ to say, it just evolved from night elven.”

“Darnassian. The language is called Darnassian.”

“Right right, Darnassan.”

“Darnassian. Proper pronunciation is key.”

“Dis is already too hard,” Zami sighed, “I quit.”

“Dar-nass-i-an,” She said slowly, sounding out each part.

Then she gestured towards him to repeat it.

“Darnassian,” Zami grumbled, glancing aside.

Curse her adept teaching skills, he thought to himself as she smiled.

“Very good. Now, let’s begin by teaching you the alphabet.”

Mythene pointed to the first book that she’d pushed in front of him.

“This book is a lexicon of the most common tongues of Azeroth. This is the most recent edition printed. It includes some of the more interesting tongues, too, like Draconic, Eredun, and even some basic Nerglish.”

“Uh huh,” Zami reached over past his knees and flipped in the book curiously.

He paused as he reached the end, perking an eyebrow.

“Where’s da Zandali?”

“Well, I did say most tongues. Not all. It seems your people were very resistant to the idea of allowing outsiders to learn their language.”

“Yeah, dat sounds like us trolls,” Zami sighed, skimming back through the book.

He stopped on the page with the elvish writing. He then pointed to a random word.

“What’s dis say?”

“Vor. It means broken.”

“How bout dis?” Zami pointed to another word.

“Kal. It means star. The example used there is Kal’dorei, the ancient name of my people. Dorei means children, so Kal’dorei means---”

“Star children?”

“More or less. Children of the Stars.”

“Okay, what about dis?” Zami pointed to another word.

“Ah, that is Shan. It means honor. Technically, thero’shan means honored student, and shan’do means honored teacher. It signals that the term is respectful.”

“Huh,” Zami looked at the page for a second before pointing to one more word.

“What about dis one?”

Mythene looked at the word and opened her mouth before promptly shutting it.

“Th...This is not how you learn a language,” Mythene glanced aside, “To learn Darnassian, you should first learn how to write it. Fortunately, I have my inscription tools---”

“What’s da word?” Zami stared down at the word, “Somethin’ bad? A swear?”

“No,” Mythene sighed, “But it is…”

Zami looked at her cluelessly and she sighed again.

“Quel. It means ...high.”

“Like high high?” He leaned forward a little, “Or like, ya know ...high?”

Mythene perked a brow.

“High as in noble. High as in...upper class.”

“Oh, okay it only means high.”

“What did you think it…Oh nevermind,” Mythene turned around and picked up a small wooden box, “I have plenty of pigments, but the quill may be a little small for you to hold.”

Zami cocked his head to the side. She opened the wooden box and set a few little glass bottles of liquid on the table. Then she got out a bird’s feather, its plumage all removed and the end bearing a sharp metal tip. She hesitantly glanced at his hand and then held it out to him. He took the quill in his left hand, holding it properly.

“I know how to write, Mi’ten. Just don’t really like quills, is all.”

“A-Ah, good,” She cleared her throat, “Then we’re already two steps ahead of what I anticipated.”

Zami looked at her flatly.

“So you anticipated dat I can’t read or write?”

“We’re getting off the task at hand,” She chuckled nervously before setting a few sheets of parchment in front of him with a bottle of ink, “Can you write your name? ”

“Well, dere ain’t no rune for it in Orcish, but it looks like this in Zandali.”

Zami inked the quill then gingerly brought it to the paper, anxious of snapping the feather. There was a reason he didn’t like quills. They were often too flimsy for him to write with any speed. But if he kept a light hand and went slowly, it would suffice. He proceeded to draw the squared spiral of the symbol for Za, followed by the hooked line for Mi below it. It took a good minute to write down, due to his slow speed. When he finished, he noticed Mythene was now watching from over his shoulder.

“Fascinating,” She mumbled, “What an interesting language. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

She then glanced over at him.

“Write something else.”

“Like what?” Zami perked an eyebrow.

“Could you write my name, perhaps?”

Zami shrugged, nodding a little. In theory, anything could be written. That was the nature of Zandali. Everything was a syllable, and any that existed could be mixed and matched at will. In theory, anyway. And Zami didn’t know much about theory.

“Guess I could try,” He shrugged again.

He began with the same hooked line for Mi, but followed it with a single empty circle to signify a pause. Then he moved below it and wrote a spiralized triangle with three small circles to its left, with only the middle one filled in. That would roughly sound like Ten. So together, they would say Mi’ten. In theory, anyway.

“It’s dat...I think,” Zami looked over at her, “Mi’ten. I mean, prolly.”

Mythene smiled from her place next to him, peering down curiously.

“How interesting. This is how you would write it in Darnassian, to compare.”

Mythene took the pen from him and then wrote a horizontal strip of what may as well have been squiggles. There was a gap between two lines of the squiggles. Must’ve been different words, he figured.

“Mythene,” She said as she pointed to the first word and then moved to point at the second word, “Moonshadow.”

Zami nodded, looking down at the text blankly. It may as well have been written in draenic because it was completely alien to him.

“Now…” She held the quill back to him, “Why don’t you try copying it?”

Zami looked down at the unintelligible squiggles and winced a little. This was going to take a while, wasn’t it?


	44. Quiet Thoughts

When Zami woke up, he realized he had fallen asleep on top of one of the books. His mouth was wet with a bit of drool. He sat up and heard the sound of ripping paper. Opening his eye, he saw a page had dried to his cheek. He quickly peeled the page free and glanced across the table at Mythene. Seeing she was asleep on her own pile of books, he quickly shoved the page back into the book and closed it, stacking some others atop it then pushing it aside.

Zami scooted back in his tiny chair as quietly as he could, but the wooden legs screeched against the wooden floor. He winced as Mythene mumbled something and began to stir. Slowly he stood up, more careful to remain quiet this time. Spending a whole night cramped in that little chair had not done his poor old back any favors. He set his hands high on his spine and cracked his back, giving a gentle sigh of relief as the tension was released from his muscles. As he turned, light hit his face.

Zami squinted against the light, noting it shone onto him from a through a nearby window. That’s when he realized it was sunlight. He groaned softly, realizing that meant they’d been studying all night long. He couldn’t remember all that much of what they’d gone over. Mostly just stuff about how to read and write elvish---Darnassian, he corrected himself. That definitely would take some getting used to.

With a sleepy yawn, he looked over at the table. The various books were still scattered about the tabletop and there were dozens of sheets of parchment with his unimpressive imitated squiggles. He moved over beside the table, picking up one of the sheets. His later attempts were visibly better than his first few tries, but they were still pretty ugly. He imagined that his scrawling probably looked about on par with that of a night elven child, maybe even worse. He chuckled quietly at the thought of being considerably outdone by night elven children. In response, Mythene shifted again.

Zami winced and glanced over at her, hoping he hadn’t woken her. Fortunately, she simply turned to face the other way and continued to snore softly. Wait, snore? Yes, snore, he realized in amusement. Apparently, Mythene snored. He grinned, eager to tease her about it later on. But for now, he’d let her sleep. She’d worked hard, probably the harder between the two of them. He had no doubt that trying to teach an idiot like him was the more difficult job. 

It made him curious why she wanted to try at all in the first place. Her reasons for wanting to teach him Darnassian were sensible enough, he supposed, but he was curious about her reasons beyond that. More specifically, why she had wanted to teach him to be a druid. She’d made it clear since the very beginning that she had no special love for trolls. She’d said that she enjoyed the challenge, but that didn’t seem like the whole truth. Perhaps it was curiosity that drove her? Or maybe it was just a reckless impulse? She was surprisingly impetuous, after all. He supposed that was a side effect of her inherently childish nature. 

Whatever her actual reasons for choosing to teach him, he was grateful for her guidance. He doubted he would’ve gotten as far as he had without Mythene’s rather abrasive attitude. It was kind of amusing, he thought, how like a troll she could be. So stubborn, so aggressive. She seemed to love to argue, just like every troll woman he’d ever met. Especially his sister. She definitely reminded him a lot of Zuka, but in truth, he made him think more of his mother.

Zera was, above all things in the world, an independent woman. She was also proud, and stubborn, and wild. Ever the daredevil, that woman. When Jumi had left her, run off to Stranglethorn for his raptors, she was left alone with her 6 young children. But she didn’t sit and wait helplessly. She made herself one of the best herbalists of Sen’jin Village and kept those kids fed. Sure, she’d remarried eventually, but even that was for her children. 

Zami couldn’t think of any other reason his mother would’ve married that jerk Tanri. There wasn’t even a trace of affection between his mother and his step-father. She hadn’t even mourned his death and, frankly, she’d probably caused it. Most people didn’t just wind up with rare poisonous herbs in their dinner on accident, but then again most people didn’t deserve it. 

Thinking back, Zami mused that was probably where his skewed sense of morality came from. From his mother. She’d shown him the simplest truths of survival. That sometimes people just deserve to die, and sometimes they need a little bit of a push in that direction. Or a lot of a push. A shove, really. Whatever it takes, as long as somebody else is better off for it. That was the mentality he’d lived with for so long. That killing was okay as long as there was something to gain. That’s what he’d always believed...until Zin’aka.

Zami closed his eye, furrowing his brow at the unpleasant memories. He’d never intended to befriend her, and definitely never planned to fall in love with her. He was only supposed to infiltrate her crew and incite a mutiny, so the Blackwater Raiders could finagle ownership of her boat. That was all he was supposed to do. Yet the longer he was with her, the more conflicted he felt. But when he’d confessed the truth to her, it was too late. The mutiny happened without him, and the two of them had been left stranded on that accursed island by the rest of the crew. She blamed him for everything, of course, and sought his head for the betrayal of her trust. He would’ve just let her. He hadn’t meant to draw his blade too. It was just instinct.

And when he looked down at her dying body in his arms, that was when he decided he didn’t want those instincts anymore. That was when he wanted out. That was when he knew there was only one person left in the world that he wanted to kill. The one person who was the source of it all.

“Zami?” Mythene yawned, sitting up.

“Huh?” Zami looked over at her, broken from his thoughts.

She yawned again and rubbed her eyes tiredly before looking back at him.

“Ah…?” She looked around sleepily, “Did we fall asleep while reading?”

“Guess so,” He shrugged.

“You must forgive me,” She yawned once more, “I was simply enjoying myself too much, I suppose.”

“What’s to enjoy bout studyin’ words?” He chuckled.

“Oh, plenty,” Mythene smiled, “I find languages simply fascinating.”

“I can see dat,” Zami leaned against the table, “By da way, Mi’ten...”

“Hm? Yes?” She blinked at him, quirking an eyebrow at his emerging grin.

“You snore.”


	45. Lock Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long to post. My depression made me really unwilling to do anything the last few days, but I managed to get this one out.

“So,” Zen’Tabra worked the comb up through Zami’s bright red hair, “What it be like, spendin’ all dat time wit de elf?”

“Well,” Zami turned his head slightly to look up at her, “It ain’t---”

“I told ya, boy, don’t move ya head,” Zen’Tabra quickly returned his head forward, “Ya want dem to come out lookin’ no good?”

Zami grunted quietly but didn’t actively protest, nor move. After all, he didn’t want his hair to come out looking no good.

“So?” Zen’Tabra spoke up again, “What it be like?”

Zami resisted the urge to shrug. He wasn’t quite sure how to summarize his whole relationship with his teacher in a few words. Only one seemed to fit.

“Complicated,” He sighed, before adding, “Pretty sure she don’t like me, but I dunno.”

“Well she be an elf, and ya be a troll,” Zen’Tabra chuckled, “Course she don’t like ya.”

Zami was silent for a moment, glancing aside. Maybe that had been true once, but it seemed different now. He couldn’t really explain it. It just felt...different.

“Yeah…” He mumbled in quiet agreement, despite his internal disagreement.

“What about ya?” Zen’Tabra asked as she tugged on a new bundle of Zami’s hair, “Ya must not like her much neither, yeah?”

Zami was quiet for another minute. Not necessarily because he disagreed this time. Mostly, he was just thinking. He’d never really thought about it before. How did he feel about Mythene? Well, he thought she was childish, and full of herself, and a bit of a know-it-all. But supposed he didn’t hate her. She could’ve been worse. In fact, she had been. Not long ago, she was almost like a different person. A much more unbearable person. He certainly didn’t like her when she was like that. 

But now? Now, he wasn’t sure what he thought. It wasn’t like they were friends or anything, not by a long shot, but it was a bit more than acquaintances by this point. They both had come to share rather personal things with each other, especially regarding their siblings, which certainly acquaintances wouldn’t do. But neither of them was quite as open as friends would be. Nowhere near.

In a way, it wasn’t even like a normal student-teacher relationship. Teachers were just supposed to transfer information to the student, end of story. And he certainly had learned a lot from Mythene, that was obvious. But it didn’t seem so one sided as it was supposed to be. It really was hard to explain the exact nature of their relationship. But he supposed, in the end, no, he didn’t dislike her.

“Well, we almost done,” Zen’Tabra grabbed the last bundle of his red hair, “Just one more.”

“Huh? Oh, okay,” Zami blinked, broken from his meandering thoughts, “How it look?”

“It ain’t gonna be lookin’ too good in the beginning,” Zen’Tabra grinned, “Dat’s just how dey be.”

“By da way, how come ya da one doin’ dis?” Zami glanced up towards Zen’Tabra, “Ain’t ya got important druid stuff to be doin’ now?”

“Not really,” Zen’Tabra sighed, “See, da Cenarion Circle is still tryin’ to figure out what to do wit us trolls. Dey tryin’ to decide to even take us in at all, if we worth da trouble. Dat lil stunt ya pulled in da Inn weren’t no help for us stayin’ here.”

“Sorry,” Zami frowned, “Didn’t mean for dat to happen.”

“Ya and dat brudda ya got, by da Loa,” Zen’Tabra shook her head, “It seem like everywhere ya boys go, one of ya be attackin’ somebody.”

“It ain’t my fault,” Zami glanced down, “Zalu was---”

“Yeah, mon, already heard all dat,” Zen’Tabra tugged his hair, making Zami wince, “Zalu said da same thing.”

“Ow, don’t pull---”

“Now ya listen up, boy, and ya listen to Zen’Tabra good,” She spoke with authority, “Ya two betta get over dis lil fight ya havin’ now, cause ya ain’t kids no more and we ain’t in da Village no more. We Darkspear be outsiders in dis place, ya understand? We gotta be able to rely on each other, cause we can’t be trustin’ nobody else out here.”

Zami sighed at her words.

“Yeah, you be right. I know dat. But Zalu don’t wanna listen. Da whole reason dat fight at da Inn happened was cause---”

“I don’t care what’cha excuses be,” Zen’Tabra cut him off, “Ya be wantin’ all of us trolls to get thrown outta dis place cause ya two can’t stop fightin’ with each other? Huh?”

“No, course I don’t.”

“Den ya gonna talk to Zalu and ya gonna put dis to bed, for da sake of da Darkspear.”

“Okay,” Zami sighed again, “You don’t gotta pull dat ‘for da Darkspear’ line on me.”

“Just makin’ sure ya don’t forget who ya are,” Zen’Tabra said before releasing his hair and stepping back, “Okay, mon. It be all done.”

Zami turned his head to face her. As he did, one clump of hair hit the side of his face. He brought his hand up to it, feeling the rough texture curiously.

“Take a look,” Zen’Tabra held out a shiny plate to him, “What’cha think?”

Zami took the plate and looked down at his reflection within it. He turned his head a bit, marveling at his hair. It had taken at least an hour by now, but it was definitely worth it.

“Looks good,” He nodded, handing the plate back, “Lots better dan bein’ bald.”

“I think it suits ya,” Zen’Tabra nodded, “Betta dan dat unruly mop ya had before. When da last time ya got ya hair cut anyway?”

“Never?” Zami shrugged, still feeling his hair.

“Quit touchin’ it,” Zen’Tabra slapped his hand away, “Ya make dem come undone.”

Zami nodded again, moving his hand away.

“By da way…” He looked over at Zen’Tabra, “Thanks for helpin’ me wit dis. I ain’t got nobody else who knows how to lock.”

“Ya brudda knows,” Zen'Tabra pointed out, “He used to have da best dreads in da Village. Wonder why he unlocked dem.”

“Oh, some woman he met da other day said he’d look betta wit a mohawk,” Zami rolled his eye.

“Always wit da women, dat boy,” Zen’Tabra tsked. 

“Ya tellin’ me,” Zami shook his head tiredly.

Again, his new dreads hit him in the cheek.

“Hah...gonna take some gettin’ used to, I guess,” He mumbled, pushing them away from his face.

“Yeah, but dey really do look good on ya,” Zen’Tabra nodded, “Ya and ya brudda got da faces for em.”

Zami smiled appreciatively and then Zen’Tabra put a hand on her hip, looking at him expectantly. He cocked his head to the side in confusion.

“Well?” She perked an eyebrow, holding out her other hand.

“Oh, uh,” Zami rubbed his neck awkwardly, “I ain’t got any money...”

“Shoulda known,” She tsked, drawing her hand back, “Well, I ain’t lettin’ my work go to waste. You wanna pay me back? Talk to Zalu.”


	46. Fraternal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Hope you all had a good Thanksgiving, if you celebrate!

Zami sat down at the table silently and leaned forward, propping his chin up on his hand. On the other side of the table, Zalu lowered the glass he was drinking from slowly. He set it down far away from Zami. An ominous silence passed between them. Then, after a moment, Zami spoke.

“We gotta talk.”

Zalu wrinkled his nose and creased his brow.

“And would ya look at dat,” He muttered, “Ya be talkin’ right now.”

Zami scowled as his brother took a sip of his drink.

“You know what I mean, mon,” Zami huffed, “Look, I was talkin’ to Zen’Tabra and she---”

“She,” Zalu cut him off, “Dat’s right. She. Ya said somethin’ bout a ‘she’ before didn’t ya?”

Zami clenched his fist but forced his hand unfurled. He wasn’t going to let Zalu get the best of his temper. Not this time.

“I think it was…” Zalu paused, pretending to recall, “Ya said ‘She’s dead cause of ya’ right?”

Zami gritted his teeth but said nothing, glancing down at the table.

“Only,” Zalu brought his glass up to his lips, “Ya weren’t really talkin’ bout me, were ya?”

Zalu took another sip from his cup and set it in front of himself on the table, though his hand never left its side.

“I ain’t here to fight wit ya,” Zami said slowly, with careful control, “I’m here to tell ya dis is over.”

“Oh? Dat so?” Zalu squinted.

“I ain’t gonna fight wit ya,” Zami frowned, recalling Zen’Tabra’s words, “We ain’t kids no more, we gotta---”

“What, ya sayin’ ya too old and weak to fight me?” Zalu sipped his drink, giving pause to examine his heavy glass, “Dat why ya had to take dat cheap shot back at da inn?”

“Zalu,” Zami sighed, “I’m just sayin’ dat I don’t wanna fight.”

He put his hands forward on the table, leaning forward to stand up and leave.

“Sure, whateva ya say,” Zalu shrugged and sipped his drink, “Old man.”

Zami scowled and reached forward, pulling Zalu’s cup out of his hand and setting it outside of his reach.

“Would you just stop drinkin’ and listen to me for five sec---”

Zalu growled angrily and swatted at Zami, slapping him across the face. A moment passed in tense silence. Zami slowly brought his hand up to his cheek, rubbing it gingerly. He looked down at Zalu in anger, met with an equally furious glare.

“Zalu,” Zami said slowly, straining to control his anger, “Enough.”

“Or what?” Zalu spat, “Ya won’t do nothin’ cause ya don’t wanna fight, remember? Ya just gonna stand dere and tak---”

Zami reached across the table and decked Zalu in the face right back, returning the favor. 

That was all it took. Soon they were exchanging fierce blows, yet neither seemed to acknowledge the impact of a single punch. At first, Zami had a considerable upper hand. Zalu’s missing leg threw off both his balance and his speed, leaving him pretty open.

But the tables turned completely in a single instant.

Zalu stumbled back to the ground, looking up at Zami with an animalistic fury. And then, he changed. His body became longer, thick blue fur sprouted, and his tusks drew forward. Zami paused, watching his brother turn into a bear right before his eyes. When the transformation was finished, the bear---Zalu---roared fiercely and charged at Zami.

He was hooked between the tusks before he could move aside, leading to Zalu running him down, Knocked down, he looked up at Zalu as he roared again, this time right in his face. His sharp teeth instantly made Zami freeze in place. His vision flashed to that of the panther, its maw hovering right in front of his face. Just like this.

Just as Zalu was about to bring his massive clawed paw down across Zami’s face, he spoke up.

“Wait,” He mumbled, almost like he were in a trance.

The strangeness of his tone was enough to give Zalu pause and he lowered his paw, squinting at him curiously. Zami furrowed his brow, his thoughts racing.

The panther. It was just like this. And that panther was one of Gonk’s tests. Was this too, then? But no, that made no sense. Why would he need to be further tested? No, it had to be something else. Something like…

“Zalu,” Zami looked up at his brother in surprise, “I think ...I think I get it.”

“Huh?” Zalu moved back, his ursine expression managing to portray his confusion surprisingly well, “What’cha talkin’ bout?”

Zami sat up.

“I think… ya s’posta teach me to shapeshift.”

“What? Me?” Zalu snorted, “Just have ya pretty elf teach ya.”

Zami shook his head slowly, brow still furrowed in thought.

“No, I think it’s s’posta be you. I dunno how to explain it, I just...feel it. Like Gonk’s tellin’ me wit out sayin’ it.”

Zalu perked up a little at hearing Gonk’s name. After a moment, he shapeshifted back into a troll, falling back to the ground as he did. He then eyed Zami curiously, clearly having several questions.

“But ain’t you s’posta be a cat?” He asked, “Cause Livvy only taught me to be a bear.”

“Livvy?”

“Ya remember? My teacher? Da worgen?”

Zami put a hand on his chin, cocking his head to the side slowly. Maybe it wasn’t Zalu he was supposed to learn to shapeshift from. Maybe it was Zalu’s teacher.

“Livvy, huh?” He mumbled, before looking over at Zalu, “Can you take me to meet her?”

“Huh? I mean, I guess?” Zalu shrugged, “But ain’t we s’posta be in da middle of fightin’ and stuff? Cause I’m pretty mad at ya and I still wanna fight.”

“And I still wanna go back to Stranglethorn,” Zalu stood up, “But we gotta be followin’ Gonk’s will, remember?”

Zalu frowned and looked down at his stump leg, staring at the little green sprout. Then, after a moment, he sighed and nodded reluctantly. Zami extended his hand, helping his brother up from the ground. Zalu leaned on Zami, using him as a crutch, as he began to lead him through Nighthaven, towards where Livvy would be.

And just like that, it really was was over.


	47. Information

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long! I was having technical problems. 
> 
> Also, for Livvy’s accent, it was tricky trying to portray the Gilnean cockney accent without it overlapping too much with a troll’s ‘Jamaican’ accent.

Livvy was not what Zami had expected. She was quite tiny, even for a human. Her chin-length hair was a bright copper red and her peach-colored skin was smattered in freckles. The most significant things about her appearance were the various silver rings adorning her ears, and her glowing bright green eyes.

“So you must be that brother what Zalu mentioned. Zami, innit?” Livvy looked up at Zami, with her hands on her hips, “Quite a tall lad, aren’t you?”

Zami cocked his head to the side, his dreads falling over his cheek as he looked down at her curiously. Her accent was weird. It wasn’t the quality of her Orcish, though. She spoke it quite naturally. There was just something...bouncy and kind of slurry about her tone. He knew most worgen sounded this way, but it was still strange to hear. Especially in Orcish.

“Right then,” Livvy clicked her tongue, “Not a chatty fella, is he?”

“Only when he gotta be bossy,” Zalu shrugged, taking a seat on a nearby rock.

“Ah, well, no worries,” Livvy smiled and extended a tiny hand up to Zami, “Olivia Greencloak, at your service! Course, everyone just calls me Livvy.”

Zami blinked at her tiny hand before holding his out to it. She took a firm hold of his hand, or at least part of it, and shook vigorously. He was rather surprised by her strong grip.

“So what can I do for you?” Livvy asked as she released his hand, “Ain’t everyday folks are asking to meet little old Livvy.”

“He gotta learn to shapeshift,” Zalu spoke up before Zami could, “Gotta turn into a cat.”

“Huh, fancy that,” Livvy put a hand on her hip, “But don’t you got your own teacher? Zalu keeps saying that you got some really pretty elf teaching you. Why not ask whats-her-name?”

“You mean Mythene,” Zami glanced over at Zalu, knowing that was how he always referred to her.

“Mythene?” Livvy rose her eyebrows, “Mythene Moonshadow? Leader of the Order of the Branch, best healer in the Circle, all that rot?”

Zami nodded, which drew a sharp bark of laughter from Livvy.

“Well, no wonder you want me to teach you!” She chuckled, “After all, Mythene can’t shapeshift!”

Zami furrowed his brow as Livvy’s laughter died down.

“What, don’t tell me you didn’t know,” She chuckled nervously, “I mean, everybody knows, yeah?”

“She never mentioned it,” Zami glanced aside, trying not to look as annoyed as he felt.

“Well, I always figured she was just too busy with all the healing and what not,” Livvy shrugged, “Never really took the time to learn.”

Zami didn’t respond, and just continued to scowl at a nearby tree. It was very annoying to realize his whole time with Mythene had been nothing but a waste of time. Sure, sure, he learned some healing spells. Big deal. But he thought that was supposed to be the introductory stuff, and shapeshifting would come later. Now he knew it wouldn’t come at all.

He was starting to regret not taking up Bonta Stillhorn on his offer. Sure, a sea lion wasn’t a cat, but at least he would learn the basics of shapeshifting.

“Well, don’t worry, Zami,” Livvy reached up and patted his arm, “I’ll teach you to shapeshift!”

Zami broke from his thoughts, looking down at her. She grinned up at him, long and pointed canines visible in her smile. Zami smiled back faintly, and nodded. 

“Can you teach me to be a cat?” He asked.

“Of course,” Livvy nodded, “That’s the easiest one.”

“Huh?” Zami cocked his head to the side, “Really?”

“I say easiest, but it isn’t all easy,” Livvy waggled a finger, “Physically shapeshifting is definitely the easy part.”

Zalu nodded in agreement from the background. Zami perked an eyebrow.

“Okay, so what be da hard part?”

“Research,” Livvy put a hand on her hip, “There are two parts to it. First is observation, and and then imitation.”

“Okay, it was like dis for me,” Zalu spoke up, “I had to go find a bear. Den I had to watch it, see how it moved and acted. Den I had to learn to copy it.”

“That’s it?” Zami shrugged, “Sounds easy enough.”

“Yeah? I had to stick my hand inside a beehive, mon,” Zalu said flatly, “I had to stand in a river, cold as ice, tryin’ to catch fish wit my teeth. Ya know how hard dat is when ya got tusks, mon?”

“To turn into a cat,” Livvy put a hand on her chin, “You’d prob’ly to head south, watch the lions in the Barrens. That’s what all the tauren do.”

Zami furrowed his brow. A lion? He was not interested in becoming a lion. Zuka had clearly said a tiger. So it had to be a tiger.

“Uh, I was thinkin’ more like a...tiger,” He rubbed his neck.

“A tiger?” Livvy perked an eyebrow, “I reckon you’d only find them round the Eastern Kingdoms.”

She tapped her chin for a moment more before adding.

“Maybe Stranglethorn.”

Zami paused as he heard the name. It couldn’t be a coincidence… could it?

“Anyway, once you do the research, shapeshifting is pretty easy,” Livvy added with a shrug, “Didn’t take you all that long to do, did it, Zalu?”

Zalu shook his head.

“Nah, it ain’t dat bad.”

Livvy nodded back to him.

“Suppose I could teach you the basics, but yeah, for turning into a tiger, you’d have to go to---”

“Stranglethorn,” Zami finished for her, glancing up to the purple sky above.

His hand instinctively moved towards his eyepatch. No, it was definitely no coincidence. Slowly, he began to chuckle.

“It’s kinda funny,” He mumbled, shaking his head in amusement, “All dis time, everyone be sayin’ dat goin’ back to Stranglethorn is goin’ against Gonk’s will. Only, turns out, dat’s exactly where I gotta be, huh?”

“So you’re going after all?” Livvy perked an eyebrow, “Hmm…”

She glanced over at Zalu for a moment then looked back at Zami.

“Take Zalu with you.”

“Huh?” Zalu looked over at her, “But what----”

“I think it could be useful for his training. Plus, if he goes with you, he could teach you the rest of the shapeshifting process.”

“Wait, but I---”

“Okay,” Zami nodded, ignoring Zalu’s hesitation.

He knew he’d had that feeling for a reason. So it would be Zalu teaching him to shapeshift, after all.

“Oh, fine,” Zalu sighed, leaning on his staff to stand up, “Guess I always wanted to see what’s so great bout dat place anyway…”

Zami went over to his brother to help him up, and Livvy snapped her fingers.

“Before you go, don’t forget!” She looked over at Zami, “Don’t forget to tell Mythene!”


	48. Student

“Stranglethorn?” Mythene crossed her arms, “Why do you need to go to Stranglethorn?”

“Cause I do,” Zami said as he shoved various useful items inside of his pack.

Mythene furrowed her brow at his non-answer.

“And why is that, pray tell?”

Zami paused to glance over at her.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” He grumbled.

“Um,” Mythene tilted her head to the side, “Yes? I’d like to know?”

“Well, maybe I don’t wanna tell you,” Zami shrugged before giving her a sharp glance, “It ain’t like you be tellin’ me everythin’ right?”

Mythene scowled at him in confusion.

“What exactly are you trying to say, thero’shan?” She asked cautiously.

Zami paused again, setting down the pack and turning to her.

“You didn’t tell me dat you can’t shapeshift.”

Now it was Mythene’s turn to pause. After a moment, she rubbed her arm awkwardly, glancing aside.

“Dat’s da whole reason I’m a druid, okay?” Zami flapped his arms against his sides, “If you can’t teach me, what’s da point? Why even be ya student?”

Mythene went to speak but Zami kept going.

“I mean, all you gonna teach me is healin’ and dat stuff. I don’t need dat.”

Mythene went to speak but, again, Zami continued.

“I need to learn to shapeshift to a tiger, but first I gotta watch tigers. So dat’s why I’m goin’ to Stranglethorn, okay? Better dan stayin’ here and learnin’ another useless healin’ spell.”

Mythene didn’t go to speak this time, just glancing down. Zami gave her a moment to say something. Maybe he was giving her a chance to let her change his mind. But she said nothing, so he sighed in frustration and turned back to packing.

As he decided which items to put in his pack, his hand brushed against a book. He glanced down at it, seeing it was one of the books about Darnassian. Zami looked down at the book for a moment, recalling many late nights of studying the language with Mythene. He smiled faintly recalling them.

His smile faded as his reminiscence only reminded him that he wouldn’t be able to learn it anymore. Not without Mythene around, anyway. What, was he supposed to learn Darnassian from Zalu? The logic behind learning the language wasn’t wrong. If he ended up alone with the Emerald Coven, it would be useful to be able to communicate and hear what they say about him. That’s when he got an idea. Biting his lip for a moment, he hesitated before turning around.

“Hey Mi’ten, maybe you could co----huh? Mi’ten?”

Zami looked around, but the night elf was nowhere to be seen. Zami frowned, figuring he must’ve hurt her feelings. He supposed he had called her more or less useless. With a sigh, he picked up the pack and slung it over his shoulder. He turned to leave but paused for a moment. Then he picked up the Darnassian book, sliding it into his pack, before continuing on his way.

Zalu made sure to pack more than just a couple of skins of stout this time. He brought a rather large array of knives, a compass, and an impressive collection of various healing potions.

“Where’d you get all dose potions?” Zami asked as he looked over at Zalu’s pack.

“Did you know a lot of female druids are alchemists?” Zalu grinned as he looked up, causing Zami to roll his eye.

“Okay but what’s wit all da knives?”

“Well, ya kept losin’ yours all da time,” Zalu shrugged, “So I figured it’d be helpful.”

Zalu held up one of the knives for Zami to examine. He took it from his brother and looked at it in scrutiny.

“Kinda dull, but it’d be good for throwin’ I guess,” He said in his final assessment of the blade.

“Oh, I got somethin’ for you,” Zalu said as he hobbled up.

Zami watched him go over to a chest. He nodded towards it, gesturing for Zami to open it. Curiously, he moved over towards the chest. Zami opened it and peered inside, before his head quickly snapped up towards Zalu in surprise.

“How in da name of da Loa did you---”

“I just asked round,” Zalu shrugged, “Weren’t too hard to find. Dere’s only so many of us here, ya know?”

Zami looked back to the chest, lifting up the familiar leather cuirass with a soft smile. Glancing back down to the chest, it looked like everything was there. Even his dagger.

“Where’s da gold?” He asked after a moment, perking an eyebrow at Zalu.

“What?” Zalu shrugged, “Ya think I got all dose knives for free?”

Zami looked at Zalu flatly for a moment but shook his head, looking back to the armor. It was comfortably familiar, snapping every piece into place.

“Armor looks good,” A female voice interrupted, drawing both of their attention.

Zen’Tabra walked over, putting a hand on her hip.

“So what’s dis I hear bout ya two headin’ to Stranglethorn?” She asked.

“Word travels fast, huh?” Zalu mumbled as he looked around.

“What’cha expect from Sen’jin villagers?” Zen’Tabra chuckled.

“Well, you heard right,” Zami nodded, “Me and Zalu be headin’ out in a little bit.”

“Hmm, den ya two should take dese,” Zen’Tabra said as she held out two talismans bearing little tusked tiki masks strapped together with sinewy leather.

Zami recognized it in an instant and perked an eyebrow as he took his.

“You sure it be a good idea to wear a symbol of da Darkspear in Stranglethorn?” Zami asked skeptically, “Dem other tribes will attack us on sight.”

“Dey would do dat anyway. And it ain’t just no symbol of da Darkspear,” Zen’Tabra explained as Zalu took his, “It be fetish. Made it me self.”

Zami looked at it curiously.

“I ain’t be a witch doctor no more, but I still know da ways,” Zen’Tabra explained.

“What it do?” Zalu asked, holding his up to cover his eye, mocking Zami’s eyepatch.

“Protection, mostly, but dey both got dey own power,” Zen’Tabra said before pointing to Zalu’s fetish, “Dat will give ya strength and patience. I think ya gonna find dey be da same thing.”

Zalu rolled his eyes before moving to tie the fetish to the end of his staff. Zen’Tabra then looked over at Zami.

“And dat one gives ya da protection too, course,” She nodded, “But its main purpose is somethin’ else.”

Zami looked at her with an eyebrow raised.

“Dat somethin’ else bein’ what?”

“Somethin’ ya need real bad,” She answered obscurely.

“What, a woman?” Zalu suggested with a snicker.

Zen’Tabra and Zami both looked over at him flatly, to which he just shrugged.

“No, but it’ll prolly help all da same,” Zen’Tabra said as she took the fetish out of Zami’s hands.

Zami gave her a perplexed expression as she leaned over and tied it onto one of his dreadlocks, towards the middle so it wouldn’t be in his face. 

“Can’t ya just tell me what it s’posta do?” He asked her, but she shook her head.

“No. I think it be better if ya don’t know,” She put a hand on her hip, “Can’t resist it dat way.”

Zami went to protest when his eye fell upon white. He glanced over to see Mythene sitting by the moonwell in the distance. She was sitting with her legs tucked up towards her chin, looking down at Zeni as it flailed its vine-arms at her. It was almost like they were having an actual conversation, judging by how she would occasionally nod in response to the lasher.

“So you ready to go?” Zalu leaned against his staff.

“Gimme a second, mon,” Zami looked over to Zalu

“C’mon, mon. Standin’ around like dis ain’t easy,” Zalu whined as he gestured to his missing leg.

“Just gimme a second,” Zami repeated before going over towards Mythene.

Mythene glanced up at Zami briefly before looking back at Zeni, running her hand against the petals of its flowerhead.

“You’re right,” She said before he could speak, “I can’t teach you to shapeshift.”

She glanced up at Zami again.

“And if you want to learn to become a tiger, you need to go to Stranglethorn.”

Zami went to speak but she spoke first.

“But you asked me to teach you,” She looked up coldly, “I agreed, despite the trouble.”

Zami again was cut off before he could speak. He was starting to realize this was rather familiar.

“You are troublesome, troll. You do realize this? Teaching you is burdensome,” Mythene stood up, “You are a burden, but even so I take the time to teach you and train you.”

Mythene scowled up at Zami and crossed her arms.

“And now that you believe my teachings are useless, as you said, you would dismiss me so easily? Are you truly such an ingrate?”

Zami looked at her flatly for a moment. He was going to say something snarky about how he was going to ask her to come to Stranglethorn anyway, but found that he couldn’t voice his annoyance. Not when he registered her expression. She looked hurt. Genuinely. He frowned, realizing in an instant that her rudeness was just retalative.

He’d only known Mythene for a few months now, but a few things were already pretty obvious about her. It was clear Mythene was bad at expressing her feelings. Pretty much everything she felt came out in a way that registered as either neutrality, irritation, or anger. It kind of made Zami feel nostalgic for home. She really was like a troll.

“I’m sorry,” Zami said after a moment, causing her to look at him in surprise.

“...What?”

“You be right,” He nodded, “Dat weren’t even what I really meant, ya know?”

Mythene perked a long white eyebrow at him and Zami rubbed his neck awkwardly.

“I dunno, guess I was just annoyed dat you never told me, since it be kinda important.”

Mythene blinked at Zami for a moment before looking away, rubbing her arm uncomfortably like she wasn’t sure what to do. Clearly, this was an unanticipated outcome. Zami found her discomfort strangely familiar. 

To break the awkward silence, Zami crouched down and removed his pack. Mythene watched curiously as he opened it and began to look through it.

“Okay so maybe you can’t teach me to shapeshift, but…” Zami trailed off as he found what he was looking for.

He looked up at Mythene and held out the book.

“But maybe you can still be my teacher.”

Mythene took the book, looking down at the title curiously. When she saw it, her expression softened. She looked down at Zami, who was peering up at her expectantly. She didn’t say anything, but her smile said enough.


	49. Taking Flight

Zami winced and looked down at his bleeding leg. Zeni cooed sadly, hugging its thorny vine-arms into his flesh tighter. He winced again. 

“Don’tcha worry, Zeni, we gonna be back---”

“Zeni?” Zalu leaned on his staff, “Ya named dis thing after our brudda?”

Zami glanced over his shoulder and shrugged.

“What? It liked da name, okay?”

Zeni nodded its flowerhead vigorously in agreement. Zalu blinked at it for a moment before shaking his head in disbelief. Meanwhile, Mythene crouched down next to Zeni.

“Now now,” She said in a soothing tone, “You must let Zami go. He has something very important to do in Stranglethorn, but he’ll come back after, okay?”

Zeni released one, only one, of its vine-arms in order to point at Mythene. It made a quizzical coo, and it was strangely clear what the lasher meant. It was asking if Mythene would be there while Zami was gone. In response to its question, she frowned.

“Well, no, but---”

Zeni hissed angrily and latched both vine-arms deeply into Zami’s leg again while defiantly curling its roots deep into the ground. Zami winced once more in response to the thorns piercing deeper into his skin. Mythene gave a short sigh and exchanged tired glances with Zami.

“By da Loa,” Zalu grumbled as he rested his chin against his staff, “It just be easier if ya take da dang plant wit us.”

Mythene went to say something but paused, before giving a light shrug in Zami’s direction.

“Well, why not?” She looked at Zeni, “Perhaps your brother is correct. Since I don’t think we’d be able to leave it behind very easily, so why not just bring it with us?”

Before Zami could respond, Zeni hissed happily and nodded its flowerhead. It unrooted from the ground and slowly released Zami’s leg. He sighed in relief as soon as his wounds regenerated, making the pain subside.

“Y’know I were jokin’ right?” Zalu creased his brow, “Bunthen ain’t gonna like dat.”

“Bunthen?” Zami quirked an eyebrow, “Who dat be?”

“Bunthen Plainswind,” Mythene answered first, “A tauren. He is a flight master, and often ferries the tauren to Thunder Bluff.”

“Flight master?” Zami mumbled, going pale.

“Yeah but he agreed to take us to Rachet,” Zalu said to Mythene, ignoring Zami.

“Wait, we gotta fly?” He looked between Mythene and Zalu, “Nobody told me we had to fly.”

“How else did you plan to get to Stranglethorn, pray tell?” Mythene rose an eyebrow.

“Boat,” Zami said firmly.

“Yeah, we gonna,” Zalu nodded, “Once we get to Rachet, we gon take da boat to Booty Bay.”

Zami firmly shook his head.

“Nope. No. I ain’t flyin’ again,” He said firmly as he crossed his arms, his hands gripping to his elbows tightly.

A few moments later, they were gripping tightly to the wind rider’s fur as he gave an anxious groan. The wind rider growled a little at its hair being pulled and jostled Zami a little, which only made his hands grip tighter.

“Ease up on him, friend,” Bunthen said as he looked up at Zami on the back of the wind rider, “He is well trained, I assure you. He will get you to your destination safely and swiftly.”

Zami made another groaning noise and slouched down close to the wind rider. He fixed his eyes on the first thing he saw nearby. It was Mythene. She was crouched on the ground next to Zeni, mumbling something with her hands outstretched and her eyes closed. A moment later, Zeni shrunk down to the size of a normal flower. It hissed happily as she picked it up and put it in her vest pocket, with its flowerhead sticking out so it could watch. Zami couldn’t help but crack a slight smile.

“Ease up, please,” Bunthen continued from next to Zami, “If you continue to pull on him, he will believe you are asking him to change course, and he will not take you to your destination. Then you would be---”

The wind rider shook again, knocking Zami off and down to the ground.

“Lost,” Bunthen finished, reaching to help Zami up, “I told you to ease off.”

“Could I just get some kinda harness or somethin’ so I don’t fall off again?” Zami asked.

“Sorry, no. You see, the only harnesses we have are for the hippogryphs, and they will not listen to a troll at the reins. They can be picky creatures.”

Mythene glanced over at Bunthen.

“What about a night elf?” She asked, approaching him, “Would they listen to a night elf at the reins?”

“Of course,” Bunthen nodded, his long white horns whipping up and down, “But how does that---”

“Zami can ride with me then,” Mythene said with a nod of her head, “Bring me one of the harnessed hippogryphs, please.”

“Well, okay. I suppose Silva will not mind…” Bunthen mumbled before going off.

A few moments later, he returned with hippogryph in tow. It had bright green plumage with vibrant purple tips. Around its beak was a bridle of thick hempen cord, woven down into reins. Mythene approached it, stroking its face gently and mumbling something soothing in Darnassian, before mounting the beast and sitting in the leather saddle. She then looked over at Zami and gestured towards the hippogryph.

Zami had never ridden on a hippogryph before, although he hadn’t exactly ridden too many wind riders either. He had always tended to avoid flying whenever possible, although it was unfortunately starting to become alarmingly common. He supposed he didn’t hate it. It wasn’t terrible. The stiff feathers felt strange compared to the soft, shaggy fur of a wind rider, but it also felt sturdier. He felt like he wasn’t going to fall off too easily. Well, you know, kind of. When the hippogryph moved forward to peck at a spot on the ground, Zami jolted forward and gripped tightly onto the sides of Mythene’s leather jerkin, earning him a quizzical look. In response, he just gave her a sheepish smile and released his deathgrip.

“The flight to the Northern Barrens shouldn’t take too long, probably only two hours or so,” Bunthen said as he looked between the Zalu’s wind rider and the harnessed hippogryph.

“How’s two hours in da air not long...” Zami muttered under his breath.

“Northern Barrens?” Zalu leaned forward against his wind rider’s head, “What’cha talkin’ bout, mon?”

“What, you have not heard about the Great Divide?” Bunthen rose a thick brown eyebrow.

“Da what?” Zami cocked his head to the side.

“After the Shattering, the land was split in twain,” Bunthen explained, “A deep chasm was formed. You will surely see it when you fly over the Barrens.”

Zami frowned. Looking down to the ground was definitely the last thing he wanted to do once he was in the air.

When the hippogryph flapped its wings and began to lift off, Zami groaned and shut his eyes tightly. After a moment, he realized he was also gripping tightly onto Mythene’s vest. Again. He wanted to let go, but the sound of the wind in his ears made him unable to.

“Are you okay, thero’shan?” Mythene called back to him over the whip of the wind.

“N-No,” Zami said as he tucked himself in closer to the hippogryph, “I h-hate flying!”

“It looks like you’re not the only one.”

Hesitantly, Zami opened his eyes. Mythene was patting the quivering Zeni in her vest pocket, trying to speak to him in a soothing voice. Judging by the way its vines were wrapped tightly onto her, Zami had a feeling her peptalk wasn’t working. With a soft sight, she closed her pocket and buttoned it. 

“I’ve never been afraid of heights,” Mythene continued, glancing back at Zami, “I told you before how I grew up climbing trees, yes?”

Zami nodded stiffly, careful not to move his body too much.

“I think dis be a little different from a tree,” He said with a nervous laugh.

“True, but the results of falling would be the same as if I were to fall from Teldrassil’s branches.”

“Dis ain’t helpin’ much, Mi’ten.”

“Ah, sorry.”

Mythene was quiet for a moment, and there was nothing but the sound of the wind. It stung a bit against Zami’s face, and he shook his head to shake away the growing numbness.

“Spiders,” Mythene said suddenly.

“Huh?” Zami glanced at her, “What?”

“Spiders,” She repeated, “I’m like you are with flying when it comes to spiders.”

“Spiders?” Zami rose an eyebrow, “What’s so scary bout spiders?”

“How about the venomous fangs? All those eyes?”

“So? Just squish it, yeah?”

“Ah, you haven’t seen the spiders that grow in Teldrassil,” Mythene shook her head, “They’re huge. They are the size of a hippogryph, but with twice as many legs. And they’re even larger when you’re a child.”

“Yeah? Well, while you growin’ up wit ya big spiders, I be growin’ up wit big raptors, okay? Now dat’s scary. You never know if dey just gonna turn around and eat you when ya ma’da ain’t lookin’ for a second.”

“Oh please, growing up around nightsabers is no different,” Mythene said as she lifted a hand from the reins to wave it dismissively.

Zami leaned forward towards her with a perked eyebrow.

“Are ya really gonna say dat a cat be as dangerous as a raptor?”

“Of course,” Mythene smiled, “If not moreso.”

“Oh no no no,” Zami shook his head, chuckling, “Ya got dat way wrong. Trust me, I were in Stranglethorn for years, okay? Da raptors were always worse dan both da tigers and da panthers.”

“Yet,” Mythene looked over her shoulder towards him, “What was it again?”

“Huh?” Zami cocked his head to the side, “What was what?”

Mythene lifted her hand from the reins again, lifting it over her shoulder. Zami perked an eyebrow, flinching as she brought her hand to his cheek. She drifted it up to his eyepatch.

“What was it again?” She repeated.

Zami stared at her wordlessly and felt himself blush, though he couldn’t exactly explain why. In response, Mythene gave him a wry smile and brought her hand back to the reins.

“It wasn’t a raptor, now was it?"


	50. Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’ve been spelling Ratchet wrong as Rachet this whole time. Yeesh!

It had been a very long time since Zami had set foot in Ratchet, probably years. But after two hours in the air, he could’ve kissed the ground in that very first moment he stumbled down from the back of the hippogryph.

Zalu, on the other hand, looked downright miserable to climb down from the wind rider. He grumpily leaned on his staff, glancing aside towards the ocean bitterly.

“Looks like da docks be dis way,” He said, pointing with his free hand towards the ocean.

Sure enough, the planked wooden docks weren’t far off. A group of people, mostly goblins, were waiting towards the end of the dock, presumed to be on their way to Booty Bay as well. The three of them made their way towards the docks, getting in line at the end of the group.

“Hey,” Zalu leaned over near a female blood elf waiting in line, flashing her his signature smile, “How ya doin’ there, beautiful?”

Zami rolled his eye, looking out towards the ocean. It had been quite a while since he’d seen the sea, and he was always surprised how nostalgic it made him. For years, he woke up everyday to the sound of the surf. Both in Stranglethorn and back in Sen’jin Village. But Moonglade was pretty isolated, high up in the mountains. It was all so different from anything he knew. It felt nice to be going back somewhere familiar.

Zeni suddenly stuck its flowerhead out of Mythene’s vest pocket, the little button popping off and releasing it. It made a happy hiss and looked around curiously. Mythene looked down with a frown, seeing her detached button, and stooped to pick it up.

“I can fix dat,” Zami said, gesturing towards the missing button.

His offer earned him a curious look.

“What? You’re a tailor?” She rose a long white eyebrow.

“Leatherworker,” He said with an uncomfortable shrug.

Mythene looked almost surprised for a moment, then rather pleased.

“Perhaps later. Let’s focus on catching the boat first,” She said as she put the button into the pocket with Zeni, who immediately picked it up and began to play with it.

Mythene then looked to the crowd ahead of them while Zami looked back to the ocean. After a moment, Mythene suddenly nudged Zami’s arm. He looked over at her curiously.

“Do you know that troll?” She asked, nodding towards a pink-haired troll ahead of them in line.

The older troll had various piercings on his ears and was holding a ratty bloodstained sack.

“No?” Zami furrowed his brow, “Why would I?”

“I don’t know,” Mythene shrugged, “I just thought you might, since he’s…”

“A troll?” Zami cocked his head to the side, “What? I s’posta know every troll in da world?”

“Well, no, of course not,” Mythene frowned, looking forward again.

A beat passed. Then she nudged Zami again.

“How about that one?” She gestured towards a green-haired female with a bone in her hair.

“No,” Zami shook his head, “Dunno her neither.”

Mythene nodded and looked away again. Zami glanced at her for a moment before looking back to the ocean. No sooner had he done so than she was tapping his arm again.

“What about that---”

“By da Loa, no,” Zami said as he whipped his head over to her, “I don’t know dem, okay?”

“But this one looks a lot like you,” She mumbled, gesturing ahead to the troll in question.

“Mi’ten, dey all look like me. We be tro---” Zami turned his head towards the troll as he spoke and froze mid-sentence.

Fiery red hair, just like his, but receding and streaked with grey. Teal skin just like his, but mottled and sagging off the bones. Tusks pointed upwards just like his, but chipped and adorned with scuffed bronze bands. Auburn eyes just like his, but twice as tired and milky from cataracts. Yet beyond all the similarities, Zami could only stare at one significant difference; a faded old scar spreading down from the troll’s left ear to his chin.

A scar Zami had given him.

“Thero’shan?”

Though he could not look away from the troll ahead of him, he could feel Mythene’s eyes watch as his hand gripped tightly to the hilt of his dagger. As he began to lift the dagger from its hilt, Mythene set her hand overtop of his and pushed it back down. In response, he angrily broke his gaze from the troll for a moment to glare at her.

“Zami?” Mythene looked back at him, furrowing her brow.

Zami parted his lips to speak, but no words came. A dense fog clouded his mind. Only one word came through the fog, and it repeated over and over in his thoughts: kill. 

The sound of a ship’s bell broke through the mental fog, causing him to jump with a start. He quickly turned his head back to where the troll had been, but he was gone, disappeared into the mass of people boarding the ship.

“Zami, what is it?” Mythene pulled his chin so that he would face her, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Zami swallowed hard, trying to force a damper onto his growing rage, which was rapidly growing to the point of overwhelming.

“No,” He managed to choke out, “Not a ghost yet.”

“Huh?” Mythene tilted her head to the side, “What are you talking abou---”

“Zami,” Zalu rapped his hand against Zami’s shoulder, interrupting Mythene, “C’mon, we gonna miss da boat.”

Zalu began to hobble down the rest of the docks. Zami furrowed his brow, rubbing his head. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe it was a coincidence. It had to be. That was what he tried to convince himself as he let Mythene lead him aboard the ship. When they boarded, he looked around quickly, hoping he might catch a second glance. It wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him. That was why he had to check. He had to be sure, so he wouldn’t have to worry.

It was rather unsurprising that he couldn’t see much of anything through the dense crowd. Even so, he gave an annoyed snort, earning another concerned glance from Mythene.

“Dere be too many people here,” Zalu complained, leaning squished against the railing, “Maybe we should wait for da next boat.”

“No,” Zami responded quickly and firmly, with way more force than was necessary.

Now both Zalu and Mythene were looking at him strangely.

“Okay, okay, fine,” Zalu raised a hand defensively, “No need to bite my head off, mon.”

Zami huffed and leaned against the railing as the ship began to move.

“Sorry,” He sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly, “I just thought I saw…”

“Saw?” Mythene perked up, “The Dream...?”

She gestured towards his eyepatch.

“Huh? Oh, no no...” Zami shook his head.

Zalu looked over and gave a shrug.

“Maybe he be gettin’ seasick?” He suggested.

“Already?” Mythene furrowed her brow, “But we’ve barely cast off, and back when we were on the docks---”

“Don’t worry bout it,” Zami cut her off, intentionally speaking over her, “I ain’t sick.”

Mythene pursed her lips, forming a tight frown, but said nothing. Not with her words, at least. Her gaze said enough. Zami glanced away from her, pushing himself away from the railing of the ship.

“Uh, I’m gonna head inside da cabin,” He mumbled, weaving himself into the crowd before Mythene could ask any questions.

He was sure she had some, but he didn’t feel like answering any right now. He had too many thoughts racing through his head at once. It couldn’t have been him, he told himself over and over again. Just a coincidence.

Inside of the cabin, it was calm and quiet. The crowds hadn’t dispersed inward yet, still lingering on the main deck. That was fortunate. Zami wanted a moment to himself, to get his thoughts together. He leaned against the wall, rubbing his face. Then he took a deep breath, gradually calming himself, before releasing his worries with a long and drawn out sigh. 

In response, there was a gravelly chuckle. He flinched at the vaguely familiar sound, feeling his stomach drop and his pulse quicken. Glancing up, he saw the person he now wanted to see least of all sitting at one of the tables at the back end of the cabin.

“First time on da sea?” Jumi asked as he looked at Zami from the table, a smirk on his lips.


	51. Taking Sides

Zami stood frozen as he stared across the empty room towards Jumi. The old troll chuckled again, standing up.

“Bend ya knees,” Jumi said as he approached, “It helps.”

“I don’t need help from you,” Zami spit, the words tight in his throat, “I never have.”

Jumi rose an eyebrow, giving Zami a onceover. His gaze lingered on the eyepatch for a moment, before a smile formed on his lips.

“...Son?” He said in a soft voice barely above a whisper, “It really you?”

Zami did not return the smile. In response, Jumi laughed.

“Oh, ya was always such a grump, always scowlin’ like dat,” He chuckled and shook his head, “I don’t know where ya get it from, Zoji.”

Zami furrowed his brow angrily and Jumi held up his hands defensively.

“Oh, my mistake,” He waved his hands, “Didn’t recognize ya, Zuri.”

Zami growled angrily, moving his hand to his hip.

“Dat ain’t it neither? Wait, Zeni?” Jumi quirked an eyebrow, “Ya finally stopped livin’ by da drink huh? No wonder ya lookin’ so bitter.”

Zami ignored Jumi’s words, drawing his dagger. As soon as he did, Jumi’s eyes widened in a kind of recognition. Meanwhile, Zami narrowed his eyes. He pulled back to drive the dagger forward when the door beside them suddenly opened.

“Hey, mon, ya doin’ okay in he------” Zalu fell silent immediately upon laying eyes upon Jumi, his mouth turning into a perfect frown, “Oh.”

“Wait,” Jumi cocked his head to the side, “Zalu? How are dere two of ya now? And where’s ya leg---”

Zami growled in anger again, charging forward and knocking Jumi over. He pinned the old man down then brought his knife up against Jumi’s neck, glaring down at his confused eyes.

“Did ya really forget bout me?!” He shouted, grip tightening on the hilt of his dagger.

“...Zuka?” Jumi rose an eyebrow, “Growin’ up did not do good for ya, girl!”

Zami lifted Jumi a bit, banging his head back into the floorboards. Zalu hobbled over best he could, putting his hand on Zami’s shoulder.

“Dis ain’t da time for jokes, ya useless old---”

“Brudda, stop,” Zalu nudged his shoulder, “He ain’t worth it.”

“Hey!” Jumi looked up at Zalu in offense, “Dat any way to talk bout ya fa’da?”

“Shut up!” Zami banged Jumi’s head against the floor, “Ya ain’t our fa’da! Ya weren’t from da day ya left!”

Jumi sneered up at Zami, who pushed the blade tighter against his throat. He didn’t want it like this. This isn’t how he’d dreamed of it for so many years. He didn’t want to see defiance in Jumi’s eyes. He wanted to see fear. He wanted to see recognition for all of the wrong he’d done in his miserable life. And for who was going to end it.

Pressing his knee on Jumi’s chest, Zami leaned back, shoving Zalu away and causing him to fall back to the floor. Zami quickly drew his skinning knife from his leg cuff and slammed it forward, piercing it into the floor right beside Jumi’s head.

“Remember dis?” He growled quietly, “Remember dis knife?”

Jumi’s eyes flicked to it briefly before looking back at Zami.

“No.”

“Look again.”

Jumi glanced over at the skinning knife again. Zami could tell by the way Jumi suddenly flinched that he did recognize it. Meanwhile, Zalu looked on in concern.

“So ya do remember.”

Jumi didn’t respond, looking up at Zami.

“Remember when ya gave me dis knife?” Zami stared down into Jumi’s eyes, “Remember what ya said?”

“No, it were a long time ago,” Jumi said stiffly.

“I remember,” Zami flicked his eyes over to the knife, “Ya said dis knife was a symbol dat I weren’t never good enough to hunt, dat I would always be survivin’ off da efforts of others.”

Jumi shifted uncomfortably and Zami narrowed his eyes.

“So ya remember dat too.”

“Dat were a long time ago,” Jumi said again, “I ain’t da troll I used to be no more.”

At this, Zalu paused. But Zami didn’t.

“What, you think we just gonna let you get away wit all you did before? Why? Cause you say you changed? And we just s’posta believe you?”

“Ya gotta gimme a chance.”

“No we don’t,” Zami said coldly, “We don’t gotta give you nothin’ at all.”

Jumi frowned, a look of desperation growing in his eyes.

“I know ya mad, but son, please,” Jumi furrowed his brow, “Zami…”

That was all he wanted to hear. Zami rose the dagger up, to bring it down into Jumi’s heart. 

Suddenly, there was a wooden scuffling and then Zami felt a cracking pain in the back of the head as something hit him. Hard. He fell forward from the force of the blow, causing him to drop the knife and allowing Jumi to shimmy away. He groaned, his consciousness dimming. He looked up from where he was laying on the floor and his heart sank as his eye met with the figure of Zalu holding his staff out with trembling hands. The last thing he saw was Jumi thankfully patting Zalu on the shoulder before his vision went dark.

When Zami awoke, he was in total darkness. After a moment, his eye adjusted and he realized he was on the floor of the cargo hold. His in depth knowledge of nautical matters from his years in disguise as a Southsea pirate told him that this must be the lowest deck then. Sure enough, he could hear the waters of the ocean sloshing on the other side of the hull beside him.

When he went to move, Zami found that his entire body was bound in thick ropes tied with various sailors’ knots. He wiggled a little and realized that, in addition to the ropes, he was also chained to the wall by his ankles. Zami frowned, recognizing the same setup as the goblin slavers he’d encountered on the seas.

After a few minutes of vigorous squirming to try and escape his bindings, he sighed tiredly and sat back against the wall. As he did so, he realized his mouth was uncovered still.

“Hello?” He called out loudly, “Anybody dere?”

When there was no response, Zami sighed and leaned his head forward. He knew enough about how these types of ships were set up that shouting would be useless. Nobody could hear the hold unless they were already in the hold. That’s why mutineers liked to gather in it.

With another sigh, Zami leaned back more and tried to make himself comfortable. He had a feeling he would be here for a while. He winced in pain as the back of his head made contact with the wall. That’s right, he remembered, he’d been hit in the head and knocked out. By Zalu, of all people. He couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Why in the name of the Loa would Zalu side with Jumi over him? It just didn’t make any sense.

The sudden sound of scuffling further ahead in the hold made his ears twitch and Zami looked up hopefully. When a rat scurried by a few moments later, his shoulders slumped. Another sound came from ahead but he ignored it, presuming it was another rat.

“Zami, ya awake yet?”

Zami still didn’t look up as he heard Zalu’s voice. Even after Zalu came over, crouching down right in front of him, he didn’t look at him.

“How’s ya head?” He asked, gesturing towards Zami’s head, “Sorry bout dat, by da way.”

“Zalu,” Zami finally looked at his brother, expression perplexed, “What in da name of da Loa is goin’ on here? Why---”

“Ya were gonna kill him,” He said quietly, looking down, “I dunno, mon, I think ya too blinded by ya anger. Ya ain’t seein’ things clearly no more.”

“No, I be seein’ dem clearer dan ever,” Zami scowled, “It be you who gettin’ blinded.”

“Zami, ya were gonna kill him in cold blood,” He frowned, “He’s an old man…”

“What, ya got pity for him now?” Zami spat, “Don’tcha remember who he be, Zalu? What he did to us? To our ma’da?”

“He didn’t do nothin’ at all.”

“Dat’s da point! He left us!”

“We didn’t need him, Zami!” Zalu stood up, “When ya gonna realize dat? We just fine wit out him! Who cares dat he left?!”

“I do!”

“Why?!” Zalu threw his hands into the air, “Why do ya care so much bout some guy who weren’t barely in our lives?!”

“Cause he weren’t there!”

“So what?! What’s it even matter? We ain’t kids no more, ain’t dat what ya said before? So why ya still hangin’ onto dis like a mad little kid?”

“Cause I...I…” Zami stammered, shaking his head angrily, “Wait a minute, why do I gotta be explainin’ myself when you be da one who knocked me out and tied me up?!”

“I told ya, ya were gonna kill him,” Zalu sighed, “Dis is just to keep ya both safe.”

“Ya call dis safe?” Zami wiggled a bit within his bindings, falling forward onto his stomach, “What if da ship starts sinkin’ or somethin’ like dat? Huh? Where am I gonna go den, huh?”

Zalu rolled his eyes, leaning onto his staff tiredly.

“Forget dis, I’m gonna go back to talk to fa’da.”

“Don’t listen to what he tells you, Zalu,” Zami warned, “It all be lies.”

“Just give it a rest, mon,” Zalu sighed, hobbling away.

Zami sighed, leaning his face forward against the floor. The ship creaked and groaned as it chugged along on the sea. It made him nostalgic. Seeing there wasn’t much else to do, Zami lifted his head, resting on his chin, and lost himself in memories of a time long ago.


	52. In The Hold

Zami laid helplessly on his stomach for days. Nobody came to see him again, not even Mythene. When he was thirsty, he’d drink from a nearby puddle of indistinguishable liquid. He didn’t really want to know what it was, though he knew he’d certainly done worse before. As for food, he was a bit out of luck. He’d tried his best to lure the attention of one of the scampering rats, but they obviously weren’t taking the bait and gave him a wide berth. 

The growling of his stomach served as a sort of calendar. The rumblings got significantly louder with each passing day. Knowing the trip from Ratchet to Booty Bay should take about a week in total, and he’d been brought down on the first day of the trip, he could guess it was about the fifth day.

Time was a lot easier to determine, even without any view to the outside world. He’d come to rely upon the activity of the rats to determine a day and night cycle. He knew rats were nocturnal, so he took their presence as a sign of nightfall.

It was during the night of the fifth day when something finally happened.

“Excuse me, sir,” A familiar voice spoke from the deck above, “I’m looking for my friend and I can’t find him. I’ve already searched everywhere in the ship except for the cargo. So if I could just pop down for a moment---”

“No way, lady,” A goblin responded, “We got orders that nobody’s allowed into the hold til we reach Booty Bay.”

“But I need to find him quite urgently.”

Zami tried to speak but his throat was too dry to produce any sound.

“You deaf, lady? Not until we reach Booty Bay.”

“Please, I’ll be very quick.”

“Do I gotta escort you to the captain?”

“...No.”

“Then get lost.”

Zami frowned as the conversation fell silent. There was suddenly a mysterious thudding on the stairs. Zami perked an eyebrow as a goblin sailor fell down onto the floor next to the base of the stairs. A moment later, Mythene stepped over the unconscious goblin. She looked around for a moment, squinting against the darkness. 

Zami tried to move, but it was practically impossible. Days without moving and no food made him feel incredibly weak. Fortunately, after a moment, Mythene uttered something under her breath and her hands began to glow. The light illuminated the hold well enough, making Zami’s eyes water. Upon seeing Zami, she quickly hurried over to him.

“Thero’shan!” She crouched down next to him, “Are you okay?!”

Zami looked at her flatly, since he wasn’t able to say anything.

“Here, let me get those ropes off of you,” She said quickly, drawing a familiar knife from her side.

Zami furrowed his brow, seeing his skinning knife, flicking a curious glance up to her.

“I knew it didn’t make any sense,” She said quietly, shaking her head, “They said you snuck back off the ship before we departed, but I remember that I was with you when we cast off. And then I found this among your brother’s things.”

Mythene nodded towards the knife as she began to cut through the ropes.

“I don’t really know who that old troll is,” Mythene continued, “But your brother hangs on every word he says. Most of them are obvious lies. Well, obvious to everyone except your brother, it seems.”

Zami nodded solemnly as Mythene finished cutting the rope and then disentangled them from his body.

“Chains,” Zami managed to say weakly.

“Hm? Chains? Wha---” She glanced down, seeing his ankles were chained, “Oh…”

“Need...pick,” He mumbled, sitting up slowly.

“A pick? A lockpick?”

Zami nodded. Mythene quickly stood up and looked about for a moment, trying to find something in the cargo hold that he could use as a lockpick. As she was searching, there was a sound on the stairs. Both of them looked over to see the goblin sailor was gone.

“Oh dear,” Mythene mumbled, “That is certainly not good.”

She returned to searching with greater haste. After a moment, she hurried back over to Zami.

“Here, will any of these work?” She asked, holding out a fishing tackle box.

Zami opened it, looking through at the various hooks and bobbers. Picking up one particularly large hook with a long stem, he sat back and began to work it into the lock. As he listened to the sound of the pins shifting, a group of heavy footsteps sounded on the deck above them. Mythene bit her lip anxiously as the footsteps drew closer overhead. 

Meanwhile, Zami furrowed his brow as he focused on the sounds coming from the lock. After a moment, the first shackle came loose with a loud click. Without skipping a beat, he moved to working on the second lock. As the pins clicked into place, the footsteps were coming down the stairs. As the second shackle popped open, Zami quickly reached out and grabbed Mythene’s hand, taking a deep and ragged breath.

A group of sailors of various races hurried down the stairs with boxed lanterns in their hands, spreading warm light all throughout the hold. They quickly dispersed to examine every last corner, every nook and cranny. Mythene held her breath, squeezing Zami’s hand as several sailors came right up to them, but saw nothing.

“They’re gone,” An orc sailor muttered, holding his lantern towards the opened shackles, “Come on, they couldn’t have gotten far. Let’s check the orlop deck.”

And with that, the sailors all hurried up the stairs. Mythene exhaled at last as Zami lowered his stealth. A beat passed before both of them quickly retracted their hands away from each other.

“Dat was...too close…” Zami mumbled, rubbing his face.

“What’s going on here, thero’shan?” Mythene asked, “Why are they keeping you prisoner down here?”

“I dunno,” Zami frowned.

“Could it be the Emerald Coven?” She asked as she removed a waterskin from her hip, holding it out to him.

Zami took it quickly and drank his fill as fast as he could, like he thought it was all going to evaporate in a few seconds or something. After he was finished, he gave a satisfied sigh before handing the empty skin back to Mythene.

“Maybe, but I dunno how dey would be involved, or even know we be here,” He shrugged, “But I do know he be involved, at least.”

“Who be--er who is?”

“Jumi,” Zami grumbled, spitting the name like it was venom in his mouth.

When Mythene looked back at him in confusion, he sighed lightly.

“Da old troll,” He explained, “...My fa’da.”


	53. In Plain Sight

Mythene peeked her head around the top of the stairwell, looking around for any sign of the previous sailors.

“I don’t see anyone,” She whispered, turning her head to look down at Zami on the stairs below her, “Shall we keep going?”

“Yeah,” Zami nodded, “To da other passengers.”

Mythene nodded, leading Zami up from the stairwell and onto the deck above the hold. The process took several careful minutes, but eventually they reached the weather deck. Many of the passengers were still mulling about in groups chatting, and a few crewmen ran about working the lines. Before they could stand out, the two of them moved over to stand near a small group of three blood elves, pretending to be a part of their conversation.

“Um, can I help you?” A black-haired female blood elf perked an eyebrow, looking at the two of them in disgust.

“How appropriate,” A male blood elf with red hair sneered, “The two most unsavory races in Azeroth have become friends, apparently.”

“Oooh, harsh, Kaelemar,” The black-haired blood elf giggled.

“Why thank you, Daendrea, but I am merely stating the obvious,” The male smirked.

“You’re so observant, Kae---”

“Oh, would the two of you kindly stop with the flirting already?” The third blood elf, a blonde female, sighed.

Zami looked at her and his eyebrows rose.

“S...Syrise?” He cocked his head to the side, his dreadlocks falling against his cheek.

“Hm?” The blonde blood elf quirked an eyebrow at Zami, “Do I know you?”

“It’s Zami. We, uh, used to work together?”

At hearing his name, the blood elf perked up, a mischievous grin forming on her lips.

“Zami, as I live and breathe!” She put a hand on her hip, “I can’t believe it’s you! Sheesh, what happened to your eye? I leave you alone for five minutes and you’re already losing limbs, I see.”

“Five minutes? More like five years.”

As the two of them started to excitedly chatter, Mythene and the two other blood elves looked on in confusion.

“Um, sorry, but who is this disgusting troll supposed to be?” Kaelemar interrupted as he pointed at Zami.

“Hey! Mind your tongue,” Syrise snapped, holding her arm out in front of Zami like she was his tiny defender, “The Sunwell as my witness, this guy saved my life several times, and you’ll show him the proper respect.”

She paused, glancing over at Zami.

“Even if he is a disgusting troll,” She added with a grin.

“Hah, you think dat’s bad, you gotta meet Mi’ten,” Zami said as he gestured over to Mythene beside him, “She be my teacher.”

“Teacher?” Syrise chuckled, “Now why would the great Zami need a teacher?”

“She teachin’ me to be a druid.”

“Druid? Are you kidding me?” Syrise perked an eyebrow, “Well, stranger things have happened. I mean, Jazax is an actual priest now.”

Syrise then turned to Mythene, standing up straight with one foot behind the other and extending one hand towards her while the other was folded behind her back. It looked very formal, like how one would greet royalty.

“Syrise Duskstrider,” She said as she took Mythene’s hand and shook it, “Former Farstrider of Silvermoon City, currently employed by the Steamwheedle Cartel and in the active service of the Blackwater Raiders.”

“Mythene Moonshadow,” Mythene said as she forced a polite smile.

Mythene clearly looked uncomfortable to be shaking hands with a blood elf, but Syrise didn’t seem to notice, or maybe just didn’t mind. She was always tricky to read like that. Instead, she turned to Zami and slapped his shoulder.

“So what’re you traveling to Booty Bay for? It wouldn’t be to sign back up for the Cartel, would it? You know we could always use your knives again, Z.”

Mythene perked an eyebrow curiously as Zami rubbed his neck, turning away from her a bit.

“Uhh, no,” He cleared his throat, “Shapeshiftin’ and druid stuff, ya know.”

“Ah, well, me and the gang are coming back from a special pickup job. Ordered by the Baron himself.”

“Movin’ up in da world, huh?” Zami perked an eyebrow.

“Oh hardly,” Syrise waved a hand dismissively, “We’re as disposable as always. Now we just get more gold.”

“Um, sorry,” Mythene furrowed her brow, “What exactly is it you do?”

“The quicker answer would be what don’t we do,” Syrise shrugged, “We’ll take any job so long as the gold is good. Anything from intimidation and petty theft, to arson and mur---”

“Okay, dat’s enough of dat,” Zami said loudly, speaking over top of Syrise, “I mean, who wants to talk bout work all da time? Let’s talk bout somethin’ else, yeah?”

Syrise perked an eyebrow at Zami.

“Are you saying that you’re some kind of mercenary?” Mythene asked.

“Uhh, you know,” Syrise shrugged, “I, um...forget?”

Mythene furrowed her brow suspiciously.

“You forget? I’m sorry, wha---”

“You know, Z is right! Who wants to talk about work?” Syrise clapped her hands together, “Let’s head into the cabin! I want to show Zami my cool new bow!”

Before Mythene could say anything, Syrise was dragging Zami off into the cabin. As soon as the door shut behind them, Syrise turned to Zami with a suspicious glare.

“Okay, what’s the deal?” She hissed, holding the door closed with her hand.

“Wh-What?” Zami blinked at her, “What deal? What’cha mea---”

“Oh don’t you give me that, mister,” Syrise wagged her finger at him, “Why are you being all weird?”

Zami furrowed his brow, rubbing his neck uncomfortably.

“Weird? What? I’m not---”

“Is it because of the night elf?” Syrise put her free hand on her hip while the other held the door closed, “Because the Zami I knew wasn’t afraid of talking about what we did.”

“I ain’t afraid, I just---”

“What? Don’t want the night elf to find out that you were a big bad killer who murdered people in cold blood for coin?”

Zami frowned and went to speak but Syrise continued.

“Why do you care what she thinks? You know night elves think they’re high above everybody else,” Syrise waved a hand, “That’s why they live on that tall tree.”

“Teldrassil,” Zami nodded, remembering what Mythene always called it.

“Yeah, that. Why do you even know---nevermind. Point is, you do know you can’t hide who you are forever, right? She’s going to find out eventually, you might as well tell her yourself,” Syrise glanced down, her green eyes staring at a spot on the floor, “It’s just better if you tell them yourself, so they don’t have to hear it from someone else. Trust me.”

Zami went to respond but there was a shove against the door, nearly knocking Syrise over.

“You better not be getting kidnapped again, Zami,” Mythene huffed, before pushing her way inside.

“Again?” Syrise perked an eyebrow and looked over at Zami, “Explain. Now.”

Zami sighed and looked back at her flatly.

“Family.”


	54. Waiting In Vain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out! Internet troubles, holiday plans, and writer’s block! All at once! Oy vey iz mir!

“Okay, so lemme get this straight,” Syrise folded her arms, “Your dad is bad. Your brother’s not bad, but he attacked you to protect your bad dad. Which is bad. But he’s not bad. Only your dad is bad. And your bad dad is making your not-bad brother seem bad. Which is bad. That sound about right?”

“I...think..so?” Zami furrowed his brow.

“Great,” Syrise clapped her hands together, “So all we have to do is make your bad dad mad, then your brother will be sad when he sees how bad your dad is.”

“Can you stop dat?”

“Aw but it’s fun,” Syrise huffed.

“I think I understand her general point,” Mythene spoke up, “Zalu won’t listen to you if you try to convince him. He’s already shown that he won’t take you at your word on this matter. What he needs is to see the truth for himself.”

“Clever little kal’dorei,” Syrise said as she pinched Mythene’s cheek, “And yup! Get him to see your daddy-o is a baddy-o with his own two eyes---no offense to you, Z---and he’ll come crawling back to you in no time.”

“So what’s da plan, den? Just, wait?”

Syrise shrugged.

“Yeah, these kinds of things take time, you know?”

“But we don’t got time,” Zami shook his head, “We gonna reach Booty Bay tomorrow. What if Jumi gets Zalu to leave wit him? What den?”

“Just wait,” Syrise shrugged, “Either he’ll eventually change his mind about dear old dad, or---”

“Eventually?” Zami interjected.

“--Or he doesn’t mind him being awful. In which case, maybe you don’t need the brother around either,” Syrise finished.

Zami sighed in frustration, rubbing his face. 

“I...need a minute to think.”

“Hey, only a minute?” Syrise grinned, “That’s pretty good for a troll!”

She laughed at her own joke, elbowing an unamused Mythene.

“Oh, c’mon, kal’dorei, that’s funny! Laugh!”

“Ha,” Mythene offered sardonically, rubbing her arm where she was elbowed.

“Ho ho, she’s got some sass in her, huh?” Syrise chuckled, “I like this one!”

She then flung her arm up around Mythene’s shoulders, earning an uncomfortable look.

“You gotta come meet my friends.”

“I already---”

“Hey! Daendrea! Come look at this kal’dorei! She can sass!”

“I already met the yesterda---”

“See? This is what I’m talking about!”

Zami perked an eyebrow, watching Syrise drag Mythene off against her will. Once they disappeared in the crowd, his thoughts turned back to Zalu. 

He wasn’t sure what to do anymore. When they’d all first left Moonglade a few days ago, it was all so clear. But as soon as they’d arrived in Ratchet, everything became so complicated. 

With a sigh, Zami say down against the deck, near Syrise’s luggage. He glanced over at it making a mental note to scold her for leaving it unattended. Especially considering she was a thief herself. He reached out to pull the boxes closer within his reach to be safe, but found it surprisingly light. A quick glance inside revealed that they were full of nothing but a few rocks and bits of crumpled up paper. With a chuckle, he closed the lid. Okay, so perhaps Syrise wasn’t being as careless as he thought, if she went through all the trouble of setting up decoys.

His interest waning, his mind wandered back towards thoughts of Zalu. They’d never gotten along when they were younger, that was true. But he had to admit he’d grown a bit fond, if a bit exasperated, of Zalu since this whole thing started. They’d been together since back in Sen’jin Village. Every step of the way, they were together. Like a team, or something.

Zami liked teams. He always preferred to be alone, of course, but teams worked well too. He had been in a team with Syrise and Jazax back in the day, and that had always worked out pretty well for them. There was nothing they couldn’t steal, no one they couldn’t kill. It didn’t matter if the Cartel made them go all the way to Winterspring, they’d get the job done.

A faint smile played at Zami’s lips as he reminisced, but it faded after his thoughts again moved back towards Zalu. He still couldn’t wrap his head around it; around why. It didn’t make any sense. What would Zalu have to gain from Jumi? That old man offered nothing but empty lies and cruelty. Syrise’s words flashed in his mind, but Zami shook his head.

No. Zalu wasn’t like him. He was certain of it. Sure, Zalu was a bit irresponsible, and had a bit of a temper, and wasn’t very respectful towards women or children, but at least he wouldn’t just abandon...his...family. 

Zami furrowed his brow, growing pale. A knot began to form in his stomach. No no. That was just...coincidence. Right? Yeah. A coincidence. Zami nodded, as if trying to reassure himself. Even so, he could feel a rising sense of panic. A panic that he had blind to something so sinister, yet so obvious. That Zalu might be exactly like Jumi.

“No,” Zami said aloud, shaking his head, “Not a chance. Dere ain’t no way.”

He tried to speak with conviction, yet his words just came out sounding like lies. The knot in his stomach grew. Maybe he just had to prove it to himself. That they weren’t alike. But how?

That was when he got an idea.

With a deep breath, Zami pushed down his growing anxiety and calmed his mind. Once he was properly stealthed, he got up and began to weave through the crowded deck. His eye eventually fell upon his target and he approached him.

Zalu was seated at a table, a frothy mug of beer in his hand. Jumi sat beside him with his own beer. The old man was in the midst of a long-winded story.

“So dat’s how I saved Vol’jin from da Sea Witch.”

“Wow,” Zalu leaned forward to prop his chin up on his hand, “All by ya self?”

“Ya deaf boy?” Jumi slapped Zalu’s shoulder, “Did I ever say dere were anybody else? No. Course it were all me self.”

“Wow,” Zalu repeated, pausing to sip his drink, “So, anyway, I been meanin’ to ask ya, fa’da---”

“Oh, ya should hear bout da time I met dis beautiful Scullsplitter gal. She were---”

“Fa’da, I wanna ask ya---”

“Hey!” Jumi reached out and smacked Zalu in the head, “Don’t interrupt me when I’m tellin’ a story, boy!”

“Sorry,” Zalu sighed, rubbing his head, “But ya been tellin’ a lotta stories. I been tryin’ to ask ya for days---”

“Fine, fine,” Jumi waved a hand, “If I let ya ask ya stupid question, will ya promise no more interruptions?”

Zalu nodded.

“Fine. What?”

“It been a few days now,” Zalu rubbed his neck, “Shouldn’t I go check on Zami? He should be calmed down by now.”

“Nah,” Jumi sipped his beer, “He be fine.”

Zalu shifted uncomfortably.

“Maybe I could just, ya know, bring him somethin’ to drink?”

“I told ya, boy,” Jumi looked over at Zalu sternly, “He be fine.”

“But it been six day---”

Jumi growled angrily and slammed down his beer, spilling it all over the table.

“I once went twenty days in da jungle wit nothin’ to eat and nothin’ to drink, and I was just fine.”

Zalu furrowed his brow, cocking his head to the side.

“But ain’t da jungle, ya know, full of stuff to eat and drink? Why would---”

“You questionin’ me, boy?” Jumi narrowed his eyes.

“Well, it just don’t make sense. I mean, maybe if---”

Jumi reached over and slammed Zalu’s face into the table, hard. Even Zami winced just watching. Zalu lifted his head slowly, a pained look on his face. He went to say something but stopped, his eyes fixating on one of his tusks. Zami looked at it as well, eye going wide. There was a deep crack, towards the base where it curved forward.

Zami looked over angrily at Jumi, who was staring Zalu down coldly. Zalu, meanwhile, brought a shaking hand up to his tusk, gingerly running a finger along the crack. As he did so, Jumi leaned over towards him.

“Never question me again,” Jumi said to Zalu slowly, before calmly picking up his beer and returning to drinking, as though nothing had happened.


	55. Tempered Blade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! The holidays are finally over! Updates should start to get back to normal pace now.
> 
> Also, I finally found Zami’s character theme; “Cry Cry Blood” by Steel Pulse. Go listen to it!

It took every ounce of Zami’s willpower not to reach out and strangle Jumi right then and there. But the words of Mythene and Syrise held him back. Zalu needed to see for himself. Zalu needed to decide for himself. If Zami got in the way now, it would just serve to make Zalu fight the truth more.

“M-My tusk,” Zalu mumbled, rubbing the crack, “Ya gone cracked it…”

“I gonna break it off if ya keep whinin’ bout it,” Jumi grumbled, sipping his beer nonchalantly.

That was the last straw. Zami couldn’t take it anymore. He had to do something, he concluded as he dropped his stealth.

He quickly ripped the mug of beer right out of Jumi’s hand, making the old man stumble forward in surprise. As he did so, Zami pushed his head forward onto the table as hard as Jumi had done to Zalu moments prior. Maybe a little harder, if the loud cracking noise was anything to go by.

When Jumi looked up furiously, Zami was already gone, stealthed again. Jumi swatted at the air in confusion, and Zami stepped aside easily, grabbing Jumi’s arm and twisting it until he heard the telltale pop. As the old troll cried out in pain, Zami tossed him back, knocking Jumi down to the floor.

Zalu, meanwhile, was still nursing his cracked tusk, too caught up in concern over his own appearance to pay Jumi any mind. He only looked over when he heard Jumi cry out, perking a brow in concern.

“What be wrong wit you?” He asked as he looked down, and Jumi just yelled back incoherently, pointing at the empty air.

Both Jumi and Zalu looked about in confusion, unable to see Zami stealthed right in front of them. Zami drew the dagger from his hip and, gripping the hilt tightly, approached Jumi with a cold expression. He didn’t care anymore if the old man understood why, or who did it. He just wanted it to be over already.

Yet as he looked down at Jumi, his visage broke as his brow creased. He hesitated, holding the blade over the old man. Jumi looked…pathetic. Sitting there on the floor in pain, hugging his broken arm. Looking around in blind panic, his cracked tusk looking about ready to fall off. It didn’t feel…right.

Zami shook his head, forcing the thoughts of pity away. As he did, the little fetish in his hair rattled audibly, alerting both other trolls to his position.

“There!” Jumi pointed, as Zalu hurried to his feet. 

Reaching onto the table beside him, Zalu grabbed his mug of beer. He quickly spilled its contents forward in the direction of the noise, soaking Zami in the process. Zami shook off what he could, as fast as he could, but it was no use. They could see him enough to know where to swing. And that’s just what Zalu did, with his staff, hitting Zami in the stomach.

Zami hissed in pain, stumbling backwards. He cursed quietly under his breath, pushing himself back into the crowd. Why did he hesitate? He cursed again, lowering his stealth, and pushed ahead through the crowd. He made his way back towards Syrise, who was sitting on the floor in front of her things, with Mythene in front of her, a pair of scissors in her hand. Long strands of white hair littered the floor around them.

Zami stopped when he saw this, looking up to Mythene. Her hair was long hair, which had previously reached below her waist, now only touched her shoulders. It didn’t look all that much different, but it was still an unexpected surprise.

“Get a little over excited with your drinking, hm, Z?” Syrise chuckled.

“No jokes,” He grumbled, leaning against the wall next to them, “And ya know I don’t drink.”

“What’s all this, then?” Syrise perked a blonde brow, sniffing in his direction, “Trying out a new cologne?”

Zami paused, wiping some beer from his face with the back of his hand, then looked over at her flatly.

“Well what happened then?” Syrise asked as she set down the scissors.

“Don’t wanna talk bout it,” Zami crossed his arms, looking away.

A moment later, something brushed his face. Zami glancing back over, ready to tell Syrise off, but stopped seeing it was Mythene. She wiped some of the beer from his cheek with a little handkerchief. She glanced at him briefly, but didn’t say anything, knowing better than to ask. Even so, she had a knowing look on her face, like she didn’t even need to ask. He sighed, hating how she could always tell what he was thinking.

“How you always do dat?” He mumbled, glancing aside.

“Hm? Do what?” Mythene asked as she wiped his chin.

“Dat thing you do,” He shrugged, pushing her hand away gently, “Ya know, where you read my mind?”

“I don’t,” She shrugged, “I read your face.”

“My face?” Zami perked an eyebrow, “What’cha mean?”

“It’s kind of interesting,” Mythene said as she handed her handkerchief over to him, “You hide so much of what you say and do, yet your face usually says much of it for you. And you don’t even seem to notice.”

“No it don’t,” Zami scowled, “And no I don’t.”

Mythene put a hand on her hip, raising a long white eyebrow.

“Really, thero’shan? You can turn invisible, and you’re really going to try telling me you don’t hide things?”

Zami shrugged, unable to offer any sound argument, and just wiped his face dry. She did have a point there. She always had a point. He hated how she could always do that, too. Always leave him without words.

“Hm?” Mythene tilted her head to the side, “I’ve been meaning to ask, what is that there?”

She pointed to the fetish tied to his hair.

“Oh, dat stupid thing,” Zami growled, reaching up and ripping the fetish out of his hair, “Got me caught in a first place.”

“What is it?” Mythene plucked the fetish from his hand, examining it.

“It be a fetish,” He shrugged, “Zen’Tabra made it, said it gonna give me somethin’ I be needin’ real bad.”

Zami scoffed, crossing his arms.

“But she wouldn’t tell me what it even be, and da dang thing only causin’ trouble now.”

“Ah,” Mythene perked up, “This is Zandali. I remember this character from your name.”

“Hm?” Zami perked a brow, “What’cha mean?”

“There’s something written on this,” She held the fetish out to him, “See?”

“Lemme see dat,” Zami took it from her, looking down at it.

He looked down at the characters engraved into the fetish and froze, at once stricken speechless by it.

“What’s it say?” Mythene asked, peering down curiously.

Slowly, after a few moments, Zami found he could breathe again. He moved his hands up and tied the little fetish back into his dreadlocks, then looked back at Mythene.

“...Mercy.”


	56. Port In A Storm

Zami stood by the railing of the ship, looking out at the golden sunrise. It made him nostalgic. The ocean was a crystal shade of blue. That meant they were very close to Stranglethorn now, that was as clear to him as the waters. 

And that meant time was up for Zalu. Because of what had happened yesterday, Zalu had only grown more attentive to Jumi. Now that his arm was broken, the old troll needed help with just about everything. And, of course, Zalu agreed to be that help. For whatever reason. There was no doubt about it anymore. Zalu would be leaving the ship with Jumi.

With a defeated sigh, Zami leaned forward onto his elbows, dropping his head down. He reached up, pulling off his eyepatch, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Though he’d done all he could to ignore it, he’d had a growing headache for days now. Maybe it was due to all of this nonsense with Jumi and Zalu, or maybe it was something to do with his eye. Whatever it was, he wanted it to be over already.

“Morning, Z,” Syrise said as she leaned her back against the railing next to him, yawning loudly.

Zami nodded in acknowledgement, not bothering to look up at her. Instead, he stared down at the ocean below. One eye shown the boat cutting through the water, while the other shown a still ocean. It only made his headache worse. Sighing once more, Zami closed both eyes.

“Everybody below deck is talking about how we’ll be hitting land soon enough,” Syrise said, before adding, “Well, maybe not hitting. I sure hope not.”

“Yeah,” Zami nodded again.

“Not real chatty this morning, huh?” Syrise poked his shoulder, “Well, you always were a quiet one.”

A beat passed.

“Get it? Because you’re a rogue?” Syrise chuckled, “Little joke there, to lighten the mood.”

Zami didn’t say anything and, after a moment, Syrise cleared her throat.

“So, uh, yeah, we’ll be reaching Booty Bay in a little bit…”

Again, Zami didn’t respond. He was kind of hoping if he didn’t say anything, she’d just stop talking.

“Sheesh, calm down Z. Your enthusiasm is too overwhelming.”

“Did ya need somethin’ Syrise?” Zami glanced over at her, “Cause if you done---”

“Yeah, yeah,” Syrise scowled, holding her hands up defensively, “Get lost, Syrise. I know the deal.”

She huffed and turned on her heel, wandering off across the desk. Zami just sighed, looking back out to the water. A couple of the crew started shouting something about land. As a result, several of the passengers on the deck hurried over to the railing beside him, making Zami grumble under his breath as he got elbowed by several people.

While the other passengers all fought for a view, Zami intentionally looked down to the water again. He had no desire to see the land approach...and Zalu depart. After getting elbowed another time, he grunted and turned away from the railing to leave, and then bumped right into Mythene.

“Oh, thero’shan,” She looked up at him, “Good morning.”

“Uh, yeah. Morning…”

“I’m rather surprised to find you here,” Mythene said as she squeezed past a human to stand at the railing beside him, “I didn’t think you would be very excited to reach Stranglethorn now, considering...all that’s happened.”

After blinking at her for a moment, wondering how such a little elf was always able to shove her way past other people with such ease, he realized she was looking at him expectedly, waiting for a response.

“Oh, right. Uh, yeah,” Zami rubbed his neck, reluctantly turning back towards the railing, “I just be...over da moon bout it.”

Mythene perked an eyebrow as Zami put his eyepatch back on. After a moment, she looked back out over the railing.

“You’re still worried about Zalu.”

“...Yeah,” Zami shrugged, “I guess.”

“I’m glad.”

Zami furrowed his brow and looked over at her.

“Oh, I don’t mean I’m happy that you’re worried,” Mythene clarified, “I mean that I’m glad you’re concerned for your brother.”

She looked down at her own hands, which were set flat against the railing.

“It’s good that you care about him,” She added quietly, “You’re a good brother.”

Zami snorted, causing her to look up at him.

“Yeah, I really be da best,” Zami scoffed, leaning forward to rest his chin on his palm, “Hmm, maybe if I cut of his other leg…”

“Zami,” Mythene frowned, “Just give him time.”

She reached out and patted his hand in a consoling gesture. Zami glanced over at her and went to say something, when Syrise’s blonde head suddenly popped between them.

“Look! There she is!” Syrise shouted, startling both Zami and Mythene, who quickly drew her hand away, “Gem of the South Seas!”

Through the fading mists of early morning, the dark green foliage of the jungle trees came into view. Zami couldn’t help but feel a twinge of nostalgia once again. Beside him, Mythene looked out in awe as the docks of Booty Bay just came into view.

“What, you’ve never been to Booty Bay, kaldorei?” Syrise grinned, nudging her.

“Is it that obvious?” Mythene asked sheepishly.

“Yup, no question,” Syrise nodded, “You got that glint of touristy wonder in your eyes. The kind that spells sucker.”

“You ain’t missin’ much,” Zami shrugged, “It all…”

He trailed off, furrowing his brow in concern as he looked at the rather destroyed state of the city.

“What happened here?” He looked over at Syrise, “Da Bloodsail attack?”

“More like the ocean itself,” Syrise shrugged, “Cataclysm hit the city hard.”

As the ship trudged to a stop, it scuffed against the dock less than gracefully, causing everyone to lurch forward a bit. Once everyone was done falling over, a bell rung to signal the arrival of the ship into the dock. For good measure, a few crewmen shouted about the arrival.

“Time to go!” Syrise grinned, before her smile fell upon seeing Zami, “Aw, cheer up, Z! Why, I bet the Baron doesn’t even remember you anymore!”

“Gee, thanks for remindin’ me,” Zami sighed, “I’d forgot all bout dat. Ugh...”

Syrise held up a hand and went to say say something snarky but Mythene shook her head. In response, Syrise fell silent for a moment and then clapped her hands together.

“Hey, Z, I know what’ll cheer you up,” She said with a nod, her tone almost hopeful.

Zami looked over at her with a perked eyebrow.

“Let’s go see Jazax!”


	57. Jazax, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been waiting SO long to introduce Jazax! At last! Muahaha!

“This is the place!” Syrise smiled, gesturing towards a rundown shanty house on Booty Bay’s lowest level.

An unconscious gnome was sticking out of a broken second-story window, and a dwarven pirate was sitting in the gutter right outside, drinking away his troubles with reckless abandon.

“This?” Mythene furrowed her brow, “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely positive!” Syrise grinned as she knocked on the driftwood door, which fell down right off its hinges.

“Whaddya want?” A scantily-clad female goblin grumbled as she walked overtop of the collapsed door, “We don’t have any more rooms.”

“Here to see Brother Jazax. We’re old friends of his!” Syrise said as she nudged Zami, who was staring listlessly at the unconscious gnome.

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Zami shrugged.

“You’re his friends, huh?” The female goblin put her hands on her hips, “Then you won’t mind paying his bills.”

She retrieved a long sheet of paper and shoved it into their hands.

“How in Elune’s light did he manage to spend 250 gold on bubble bath?” Mythene blinked in sheer confusion.

“Oh sweet summer child,” Syrise patted her cheek, “You have so much to learn about Booty Bay.”

Syrise then looked back at Zami, nudging him with her elbow. He perked an eyebrow at her, and she leaned over to him.

“I happen to know that Grechin here has a thing for trolls,” She whispered in his ear, “You put the moves on her and she might let us in for free.”

Zami looked at her flatly, going to immediately reject that terrible idea, but Syrise just shoved him forward before he could. He glared back at her and she just gave him a thumbs up. Groaning, Zami looked down at the little goblin woman. She barely came up to his knee, and that’s only if you counted the height from her massive poof of purple hair. Zami looked at her little green face, with her beady eyes leering at him and a bone going through her nose, and he could physically feel the dread weighing upon his soul.

“Uh, hi,” He waved at her awkwardly.

“Hi yourself,” Grechin smiled, “How you doin’ this morning, hot stuff?”

Zami cringed, barely managing to pretend it was a smile.

“Uh, good, good...” Zami mumbled, clearing his throat.

He glanced back at the elves, in state of sheer pain. Syrise gave him a double thumbs up while Mythene just looked on in confusion.

“What’s a beefcake like you doin’ wasting your time with a couple of elves?” Grechin asked, putting a tiny hand on her equally tiny hip.

“Looking for Jazax,” Zami shrugged, “Could ya, uh, let us in?”

He furrowed his brow, somehow physically feeling Syrise still giving him a thumbs up from behind his back.

“Um...please?” Zami grimaced, “...Cutie?”

Grechin laughed, wiping away a tear, making Zami blush in embarrassment.

“Okay, big guy, don’t hurt yourself now,” Grenchin chuckled, “Since you asked so nice, go right on ahead. Smooth talker.”

Zami cleared his throat uncomfortably, giving a subtle nod in thanks, and quickly entered the shanty house with Syrise and Mythene.

“Great job, Z!” Syrise winked, “Glad you still got it!”

“What just happened?” Mythene frowned, “I’m so confused.”

“Booty Bay,” Syrise laughed as she led them up the stairs, “Best not to think too hard about it!”

Syrise brought them to a room with an upside down 2 nailed to the door. She rapped on the door, in a rather vain gesture, before pulling a hairpin from her collar and jamming it into the lock without skipping a beat. The door popped open after a moment and Syrise made her way inside, with Zami and Mythene in tow.

“Oh Jazzy boy!” Syrise called out loud, “You’ve got guests!”

“Go away, Syrise!” A voice called from the other room, “I’m busy!”

“Not too busy for some old friends...and an elf!” Syrise called back.

Some loud profanity later, a little green goblin emerged in the doorway. He had a large hooked nose and a single black ponytail atop his otherwise bald head. The moment his beady purple eyes set on Zami, he scrambled backwards and picked up a nearby spatula, holding it defensively.

“Don’t come any closer!” The goblin waggled the spatula over his shoulder, “Don’t make me use this!”

“Relax, Jaz,” Syrise waved a hand at the goblin dismissively, “If Z was here to kill you, you wouldn’t know about it. You’d just be dead.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?!” The goblin howled, gripping the hilt of the spatula tighter.

“What you even gonna do with dat thing?” Zami gestured to the spatula, “Ya can’t reach nothin’ above me knees.”

In response, Jazax stepped up on top of a tall book.

“Ooh, scuse me,” Zami held up his hands, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “I meant me hip.”

“Got you pretty good in the stomach last time,” Jazax squinted, “And I didn’t even need no book back then!”

“Guess you gettin’ shorter wit age. Careful now, you might disappear if you get any smaller, mon.”

“I’m not small!” Jazax grumbled, lowering the spatula, “I’m fun-sized.”

Jazax hung his head and stepped down from the book, going over to Zami and hugging his leg. Zami perked an eyebrow, oddly reminded of Zeni, who was still hanging out in Mythene’s vest pocket.

“We thought you were dead,” Jazax blubbered as he wiped his nose against Zami’s pantleg, “Okay, well, maybe just me. I mean, Syrise was pretty sure you were still alive, but I definitely thought you died.”

Jazax paused to blow his nose on Zami’s pantleg then looked up at him.

“What I mean is, glad you ain’t dead, buddy.”

“Yeah…” Zami glanced down at his wet pantleg, nudging Jazax away, “Uh, thanks.”

“What about me?” Syrise gestured to herself, “Don’t I get any little “glad you aren’t dead” speech?”

“Nah,” Jazax waved a hand at her, “Then I’d be lyin’ and I ain’t supposed to do that anymore.”

“Yeah, I heard you a real priest now,” Zami perked an eyebrow, wiping his pantleg off.

“Yup, followin’ the Light and all that,” Jazax nodded, before glancing over at Mythene, “Oh, well, well, well. Who’s this lovely lady?”

“Oh that’s Zami’s kaldorei,” Syrise shrugged, “She’s his teacher.”

“Mythene Moonshadow,” Mythene extended her hand towards Jazax, “Pleased to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” Jazax shook her hand with a cheesy grin, “Funny, you don’t look like a teacher.”

“And you don’t look like priest,” Mythene responded flatly, mechanically rescinding her hand.

“New at it,” Jazax shrugged, turning to Zami, “So what’re you teaching him? If you’re teaching him how to take a bath, sorry to say you ain’t doing too good, lady. This guy smells like an orc’s behind. And, no offense, but you do too, sweetcheeks.”

“Well, Jaz, we did just spend a week packed in crowds and surrounded by sweaty sailors, rotting fish, and stale beer,” Syrise said as she flopped down on the sofa, “I think we could all use a bath.”

“Oh, in that case, you guys should try out my bubble bath. That stuff’s the best!”

“Yeah?” Syrise looked over, “Well, for 250 gold, it had better be!”


	58. Jazax, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone! Can you believe it’s 2020 already? That means it’s been 8 years since Cataclysm came out back in 2012!
> 
> Yeah I made a typo, shush.

Zami didn’t like taking baths. He didn’t mind letting the girls go do whatever they needed to, of course. Elves were like that. But he personally found that just rinsing off with some seawater was more than enough for a troll like him.

So while Syrise and Mythene were off doing their bubble bath nonsense, Zami went out to the docks. He crouched down near the water’s edge and scooped up a few handfuls of the saltwater, splashing some over his face. The cold, harsh water felt good under the blazing heat of the midday sun.

Zami didn’t mind the wet heat of the jungle. It felt natural. He supposed that was why he was called a jungle troll. Even so, he always found it much easier to get used to the heat than the cold. Moonglade was a bit too chilly for his preference, especially when the eastern winds blew from Winterspring. Even Durotar had the problem of being a bit too dry once you left the coastline. But Stranglethorn, in a lot of ways, was just right.

As Zami finished rinsing his face, he moved to unbuckle his cuirass. Holding it on his lap, he moved to splashing his bare chest. As he did so, he heard the sound of laughter. Perking an eyebrow, he looked up to see a gaggle of dirty street kids watching him from a nearby shaded nook of the docks. Some of them were girls, those the ones giggling at the sight of the troll washing himself, while the boys just stood back and languished in the shade. Zami perked an eyebrow and turned away, ignoring the kids, as a little goblin approached.

“Hey, you brats, find somewhere else to squat!” Jazax growled, throwing an empty beer bottle at the children.

As the bottled shattered near them, they scattered, disappearing off into the shadows.

“I swear, those kids are just like my crazy ex,” Jazax sniffed, “No matter how many weapons I use or things I throw, they keep on comin’ back!”

Zami perked an eyebrow, continuing to rub saltwater across his chest, as Jazax took a seat on the docks next to him.

“Yeah, so, the broads kicked me outta the room, said they gotta get dressed and all that,” Jazax explained, “Probably stealin’ all my stuff up there, knowin’ Syrise.”

“Nah,” Zami shook his head, “Mi’ten wouldn’t do dat.”

“I dunno, it’s the pretty ones you gotta watch out for,” Jazax shrugged, “They’ll bleed you dry then hit the road once they get all they want.”

“She ain’t a goblin,” Zami chuckled, reaching up and running his damp hands over his dreads, since getting them truly wet would take hours to dry, “Elves be different.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure, buddy. They’re always different.”

Zami perked an eyebrow and Jazax just shrugged, changing the subject.

“Y’know, none of you ever told me. What’s the elf teachin’ you anyway?”

“Druid stuff,” Zami said as he moved his hands back into the water below, “She teachin’ me to be a druid.”

“No kiddin’?”

Zami nodded, returning to wiping his body down with the ocean water.

“That’s all?” Jazax quirked an eyebrow suggestively, “Nothin’ else, huh?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, she also be teachin’ me to speak elf--err, Darnassian. Ain’t da same thing Syrise speaks. Dat’s, uh...what were it called...Thalassian, I think? Mi’ten says dey be really different but I dunno, dey sound pretty much da same to me.”

“Yeesh,” Jazax leaned back on his hands, “That bad, huh?”

Zami paused, cocking his head to the side.

“Huh? Bad?”

“You,” Jazax clicked his tongue, “You got it bad, buddy.”

“Got what?” Zami blinked.

“Y’know...” Jazax waved a hand, shrugging a bit as though it should be obvious.

Zami just stared at him blankly.

“Jeez you’re stupid,” Jazax grumbled under his breath, before quickly adding, “Look, all I’m sayin’ is, don’t name your freaky half-breed baby after me, alright? I don’t need that kinda legacy.”

“Bab---what? Wait, ya don’t think---what? No, no, we ain’t---”

“Yeah yeah yeah, spare me,” Jazax waved a hand dismissively, “I don’t want the details, alright?”

Zami sighed and shook his head, wiping his face once more before flicking the saltwater from his hands.

“Wait, is that even possible?” Jazax tapped his chin, “The baby thing. Can you two actually---”

“Don’t know, don’t wanna know,” Zami shrugged, cutting him off, “By da way, da kids are back.”

Zami nodded his head towards the shaded nook, where the street kids had gathered yet again.

“Really? Already?” Jazax groaned in the direction of the children, “Yeesh, I had roaches that were easier to get rid of...and probably half as dirty!”

Zami perked an eyebrow at Jazax.

“Ain’t you s’posta be a priest, mon?”

“Yeah?” Jazax shrugged, “So?

“I think helpin’ dem be part of da job.”

“Whaddya want me to do? Adopt ‘em?” Jazax snorted, “Look, I’ll pray to the Light for them, alright? But if you think I’m givin’ those brats any money, you can forget about it!”

Zami looked flatly at the goblin.

“Nah, wouldn’t dream of it,” He said sardonically, wiping his wet hands on his pants before he stood up.

Slipping his leather cuirass back on, he looked over towards the street kids. Something about their ugly little faces made him think of his brothers. Sighing to himself, Zami walked over to the kids, who shrunk back into the shadows a bit. Skittish. Probably not a lot of friendly adults in their lives, he figured.

“Hey, you kids wanna make a few quick silver?” Zami crouched down, looking into their little shadowy nook.

The kids hesitated in their retreat, glancing up at him in suspicious curiosity. 

“I’ll give you…” Zami paused, pulling a few coins out of his pocket.

He didn’t have much money left, thanks to Zalu, but he still had a handful of silver. There was probably only around 10 silver in total, with a few coppers for good measure.

“...uhh, y’know what? I’ll give you kids all of dis, if you kids just find somewhere else to hang out. It be makin’ my friend over there real upset to...uhh, to see you kids wit nowhere to go.”

“But it’s too hot to go anywhere,” A little orc boy, apparently the eldest of the bunch, spoke up.

“Well, it do be hot,” Zami paused to think, “...But you kids wanna know a secret?”

The kids blinked up at him.

“You already know it be real cool under da docks, but I know a place even better dan dis. Y’all know where da ships come in? Well, there be a nice little space under da planks dere, a little island wit plenty of room. It don’t flood when da tide comes in, and I heard dat a long time ago, a...pirate hid some treasure down dere.”

The faces of the kids drew dramatically more invested upon hearing the word treasure.

“Who knows,” Zami shrugged, “Might find somethin’ good down dere. And, ya know, even if not…”

He held the handful of silver out to them.

“...What do ya got to lose, huh?”

The kids looked to the orc boy, clearly their leader, who nodded. The kids quickly scrambled forward, taking the silver from Zami’s hand, and then the group disappeared off into the shadows. Zami shook his head in amusement and stood up, as Jazax approached.

“What was all that, huh?” Jazax poked him, “You gettin’ soft on me, big nose?”

“Ah, I just told em bout my old stash,” Zami shrugged, “Put a lot of da stuff we stole dere for safekeepin’ when it were too hot for any fence.”

“What!” Jazax huffed, “Why would you give that way? That stuff must be worth a couple hundred gold in total!

Zami shrugged.

“Forgot bout it, ya know? Don’t need it me self. Better dem who could use it.”

“I could use it!” Jazax whined.

Zami just looked back at him flatly.

“Yeesh, Zami, you’re hopeless,” Jazax sighed, hanging his head and turning away.

Zami just shrugged again, glancing back at the empty nook with a faint smile.


	59. Speak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long! I’ve been pretty sick lately, just sleeping all day. Hasn’t been fun.

Zami propped his chin up on his hand, leaning forward over the table. He tried not to let Syrise’s snickering get to him.

“Okay,” Mythene set a piece of paper in front of him, “What does this one say?”

Zami looked down at the little elvish squiggles. He definitely recognized it. It was a place. Somewhere he’d been, he remembered. Alas, he’d been pretty much everywhere by now. Fortunately, he could narrow it down by knowing it was a place with an elvish name. That’s when it clicked.

“I got dis,” He nodded, pointing to the paper, “Ashenvale.”

“Very good,” Mythene nodded, “You’re getting quicker.”

“A quick troll?” Syrise piped up from the sofa nearby, “Color me surprised.”

She leaned forward with a condescending grin plastered wide across her face.

“I thought you were all a bit slow.”

Zami rolled his eye and glanced over at her, unamused. His expression just made her snicker.

“Focus,” Mythene tapped the table in front of them, “How about this one?”

Zami looked back down to the table.

“Oh, dis one easy,” He chuckled, “Druid.”

“In Darnassian, please.”

“Uh,” Zami furrowed his brow, “...Alu?”

“Very good,” Mythene nodded, “Remember, alu can also mean the essence of Nature itself.”

“It can also mean hair color,” Syrise added, “Like, she’s a natural blonde. Get it?”

“Oh, I get it….” Zami glanced over at her, “Alu’dal ashte’rodne.”

Syrise gasped in, feigned, mild offense as Jazax looked up from his alchemical table. His goggles made his beady violet eyes look huge.

“Hey, easy on that elf stuff round here, would ya? People might talk.”

“But Zami has to keep up with his studies,” Mythene looked over, “How could he do that without speaking?”

“I dunno, sweetcheeks, but if you keep this up any longer, I’m gonna be speakin’ elf myself soon,” Jazax said before shrugging, “Why don’t you take it somewhere else?”

“Jazzy, you could never speak an elvish tongue,” Syrise grinned, nudging him with her boot, “You don’t know the first thing about it.”

“On the contrary, I know plenty about elvish tongues,” Jazax flipped up his goggles, flashing her his signature ‘charming’ grin, “I’ve dated plenty of ‘em.”

“Okay then!” Mythene snapped her book closed uncomfortably, “We’ll study somewhere else! I really don’t want to hear any more.”

Zami nodded in agreement, helping her to gather up their things.

“Yes, run, you cowards!” Syrise called after them with a laugh as they exited the room, going out into the hall.

Once the door was shut, and the increasingly vulgar conversation inside was silenced, both gave a sigh of relief.

“Well, that was...” Mythene cleared her throat, leaving the remainder of her comment up to the imagination.

If only Jazax were so modest.

“Sorry bout him,” Zami shrugged, “He ain’t really used to bein’ round women.”

He paused a moment before adding.

“Syrise don’t count.”

“I shan’t ask why not,” Mythene perked an eyebrow, “So am I to assume all men speak in a similar crass manner in the absence of women? Going on about past lovers in such a way?”

Zami looked at her flatly.

“Yeah, obviously?” He shrugged. 

“Really?” Mythene cocked her head to the side, “Even you?”

“Uh, well,” Zami cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably, “Not...really…”

Zami didn’t exactly have any past lovers to go on about in the first place. Well, except the one. But the most intimate he ever got with Zin’aka was when he murdered her. And that didn’t quite seem like a story to regale at parties.

Not that he would ever admit any of that, of course. Zalu mocked him enough for not having a woman at the present. The last thing he needed was Zalu, or anybody else, knowing that he’d never had a woman, ever.

“Well, let’s find somewhere to go set up,” Mythene said as she gestured to the books in her arms, “These things are quite heavy.”

They soon found a rather isolated spot outside, near the docks but in the shade. Both factors contributed well to the area being rather cool, comparatively. It was still sweltering outside, especially with the midday sun on high, but the shade and proximity of the cool ocean water were enough to make the spot comfortable. Zami wasn’t sure if it was fortunate or unfortunate that there wasn’t much of any breeze that day.

“This will do,” Mythene said as she crouched down to the ground, “Now, where were we…”

As she flipped open a book and skimmed the pages, Zeni poked its flowerhead out of her vest pocket. Seeing Zami take a seat across from Mythene, it hissed excitedly and leaned forward, plopping to the ground. It made its way over to him, tiny shrunken vine-arms hugging at his leg.

Zami smiled a little as Mythene muttered to herself, still seeking the lost prior page, and reached down to scroop up Zeni into his hand. He held the tiny lasher up in the palm of his hand, peering down as it began to wiggle excitedly. A curious thought came to him and he brought his hand up to his eyepatch, pushing it up. After blinking a moment, adjusting to the sudden sunlight, he looked forward.

To his surprise, Zeni still bobbed excited in his palm. From what he now knew about the Emerald Dream, it showed the world as it would look if people had never meddled with it. No buildings and so on. Curious, he thought, that Zeni might still exist. Perhaps it was due to technically being a plant elemental.

Then again, sometimes he saw other people. He could see Mythene, and Zalu too. But not Syrise or Jumi. Maybe it was because the former two were druids, while the latter weren’t. Whatever the reason, it sure was curious.

“Ah, here we go,” Mythene pointed to the book, “Alu. Druid, nature...”

“Hair color,” Zami added with an amused chuckle, poking Zeni lightly.

“Yes, well,” Mythene rolled her eyes, “A Thalassian usage, no doubt.”

“What it be in Darnassian?” Zami glanced over at her, “Hair color, I mean.”

“Well, usually you would just use dal’drassil. Color is implied.”

“Dat’s….ya crown?”

“Or you may use ana’drassil, meaning my crown. It’s often perfectly clear in context.”

“Ain’t dere any colors?”

“Well, yes, I suppose you could get specific if you wished to.”

“Okay, so what’cha call dis color?” Zami held out his hand, touching her silver white hair at the base, near her chin.

“Kal.”

“Star, huh,” Zami nodded, “Dat makes sense.”

He then reached up and thumbed his own fiery red dreadlocks.

“How bout dis?”

“Sin.”

“Blood…” Zami lowered his hand, “Dat...makes sense, too.”

He glanced aside, setting Zeni down into the grass.

“In more ways dan one…”

Mythene perked a long silver eyebrow, looking over at him. Zami sighed, lowering his eyepatch back into place.

“Guess it be time to tell you, den…” He shrugged, looking out to the water.

“About what?” Mythene furrowed her brow, growing concerned.

Zami sighed again, rolling his shoulders a bit to relieve some of the stress that had built up over the last...who knows how long. Days, weeks, months. Then he glanced up at the sky. It was a nice bright blue. The ocean was still and quiet, due to the lack of breeze.

“About what?” Mythene repeated, a bit softer this time.

Zami looked back to her after a minute, anxiety readily apparent on his face.

“Bout me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zami said "Your nature is truly quite ugly" in accurate Darnassian.


	60. In The Past

Zami held out one hand, brow furrowed, while the other pressed against the bandage on his stomach.

“Here you go, Z,” Syrise said as she thrust a small sack of coins into his palm, “Your whole cut.”

“Did y---”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry,” Syrise nodded, her blonde ponytail whipping side to side as her head bobbed up and down, “I made sure Jaz didn’t skim.”

Zami pocketed the pouch and then looked back at her.

“Good. You go tell dat little green stain dat if I ever get back in Booty Bay, it cause I be comin’ to kill him.”

“Duly noted,” Syrise rolled her glowing eyes, “Although I still kind of can’t believe he stabbed you. What’s the deal with that anyway?”

Zami glanced aside, looking over to crystal blue water. The sky was sunny, the breeze was warm, and he was getting paid. A lot. It should’ve been a good day. He should’ve been happy.

But instead he felt...empty.

“...Don’t wanna talk bout it,” Zami shrugged, rubbing the dark circles around his eyes, “Look, I got somewhere to be.”

“The jungle, right?” Syrise nodded, “I, uh, heard from Jaz.”

“Den you know why I gotta go.”

“I only heard pieces of that part. Something about revenge. And, I mean, sure, revenge is great and all,” Syrise shrugged, “Uh, but...are you sure? I mean, no one loves a good assassination better than me. But, still, Z…”

She hesitated, glancing up at him.

“...Is dis where ya s’posta to be?”

Zami looked up in surprise, his arms snapping behind his back. He hastily shoved the note into the back pocket of his pants as she drew closer.

“What ya two be doin’ down here?” Zin’aka squinted, glancing between the two of them.

“Nothin’ at all, Cap’n,” The sailor beside him shrugged, “Was just checkin’ out the cargo, ma’am.”

“Yeah, alright Murray,” Her red eyes then looked suspiciously at Zami, “And what bout ya over dere, new troll?”

“Just, uh, gettin’ familiar wit da ship,” He shrugged, moving his hands down to his sides once he felt the note was deep in his pocket.

“Well, one can get too familiar wit a ship, y’know,” Zin’aka crossed her arms.

“Uh, sorry...Cap’n,” Zami furrowed his brow anxiously, worried his cover was somehow blown.

“Y’know, ya be kinda cute when ya look worried,” Zin’aka grinned, slapping his cheek playfully.

Zami blushed a deep blue hue at her comment, clearing his throat awkwardly. He wasn’t sure how to react. He’d never exactly been called cute before.

“Hmph, well, once ya finish ya little tour, get back to work,” Zin’aka said as she turned away, before pausing to glance back over her shoulder with a little smile, “Unless ya want me to give ya a tour me self.”

Zami blushed again, not sure what to do with himself in reaction to her flirting. As he went to speak, the sailor next to him, Murray, nudged his side.

“Hey, sounds like she wants to give you a tour of the captain’s cabin,” Murray winked, shooting him a toothless grin.

“Wh-What?” Zami blinked at him, only blushing more.

“You gonna take her offer?” Murray smiled, “I hear a pirate lass always has some...fine booty.”

“Dat don’t really be any of ya business, is it?” Zami scowled, taking a cautious step towards the undead, “So you gonna teach me or not?”

“What’s in it for me, troll?” Archibald hissed, bony fingers lowering his chainmail coif.

Zami grunted and jammed his hand into his bag, pulling out a small coin purse. He thrust it towards the undead’s chest.

“Dere be 20 silver dere. Heard dat’s ya price. Now ya gonna teach me or what?”

Archibald flicked his glowing eyes to the coin purse, briefly poking it open to examine its contents.

“Hmph, you’re rather lucky I’m no rogue, boy,” Archibald glanced up, tossing the coin purse back, “You heard wrong. My fee is 10 silver.”

“But dat’s per weapon, ain’t it?”

Zami tossed the coin purse right back. After catching it, Archibald perked an eyebrow curiously. In response, Zami shrugged.

“I wanna dual wield.”

Archibald smirked and closed his skeletal fingers around the coin purse.

“I’ll teach you,” Jarug held up the coin purse, “It be easy. Da elders don’t see nothin’ no more.”

“I don’t need to steal,” Zami shook his head, “I ain’t no rogue. I be a hunter.”

“Dat ain’t what I heard,” Jarug leaned back against the wall, “I heard ya sit wit da old ladies all day, weavin’ a woom.”

“It be called a loom, stupid.

“See?” Jarug shrugged, “Real men don’t know dat kinda thing.”

Zami wrinkled his nose, pushing past Jarug, making sure to hit his shoulder as he passed. He didn’t have time for this. He was going to be late to work.

"Runnin’ away?” Jarug called after him, “Just like ya fa’da?

Zami stopped, glancing back.

“I ain’t nothin’ like him!”

“Oh, dat be a sore spot?” The older boy smirked, “Well, why don’tcha prove it den?”

Zami perked an eyebrow curiously as Jarug walked over to him.

“Ya work wit da old ladies, don’tcha?” Jarug smiled, “Like I said before, dey don’t see too good.”

Jarug held out his hand.

“Name be Jarug, by da way.”

“Zami,” Zami said flatly as he took Jarug’s hand and shook it.

He instantly wrinkled his nose, cringing as thick red blood stained his hand up to his wrist.

“Ugh, why it gotta be warm…” He grumbled, wincing further as he heard bones snap under the force of his knife.

“Don’tcha be whinin’ bout a little blood, boy,” Lau’Tiki called from the nearby fishing shack, “Ya think a boar be bad?”

Lau’Tiki pointed up to the roof of the fishing shack, gesturing to the newly-hung massive shark. Saltwater still dripped down the heavy corpse, which made the roof groan softly under its weight.

“Imagine cuttin’ into one of dese,” Lau’Tiki slapped the shark, “Talkin’ bout blood in da water!”

Zami paused to wipe sweat from his forehead, inadvertently streaking his face with blood.

“Why you even got dat thing?” Zami pointed to the shark with his knife, “You don’t sell no shark meat, and ain’t nobody gonna eat dat. Bad juju.”

“Call it mackerel, and dey eat it just fine,” Lau’Tiki said with a grin.

Zami furrowed his brow, stabbing the knife under the boar’s skin again.

“But dat’s lyin’ and ma’da say don’t never lie.”

“No, course not,” Lau’Tiki nodded, “Never lie to ya ma’da.”

Lau’Tiki paused to set his fishing pole against the wall, shrugging a little in Zami’s direction.

“But lie to all da rest.”

Zami looked up anxiously, expression troubled.

“No, dat’s wrong.”

Jumi frowned, crossing his arms.

“Why ain’t ya holdin’ it like I told ya, boy?”

“I am!” Zami huffed, tightening his grip onto the bow, “I think dis bow is broken!”

Jumi reached forward, snatching the bow from Zami’s little hands. He nocked an arrow, firing it at the target. Unsurprisingly, it stuck the bullseye.

“Dere’s nothin’ wrong wit da bow,” Jumi shook his head, “Ya just ain’t doin’ it right.”

“I be tryin’ me best, fa’da,” Zami frowned, “But we been out here all day. I’m tired, can we go h---”

“Well ya best ain’t good enough den,” Jumi said as he walked forward, pulling the arrow from the target, “When ya huntin’ in da wild, ya prey won’t give ya a second shot.”

Jumi returned back to Zami’s side, handing him the bow and arrow.

“And when ya on da battlefield, da Alliance won’t wait neither.”

“I know, I know, fa’da,” Zami whined, “But I don’t even care bout da Alliance---”

Anger flashed in Jumi’s eyes and he grabbed Zami roughly by the front of his shirt.

“And dey don’t care bout ya neither, boy!” He growled, shaking the child in front of him like ragdoll, “Don’t ya get it? How ya gonna survive if ya can’t defend ya self?!”

Zami hesitated as Jumi released his shirt.

“...W-Well…” He glanced down, “Ma’da says da tribe looks out f---”

“I love ya ma’da,” Jumi cut him off, “But, by da Loa, she a dumb woman.”

Jumi growled in frustration and then crouched down onto the ground in front of Zami, so that their gaze was level.

“Zami, ya gotta understand dis what I tell ya now,” Jumi said slowly, his voice tight and low.

Zami blinked at his father anxiously, wanting to run away, but the hand Jumi clamped down onto his shoulder locked him in place. He was starting to get a queasy knot in his stomach. It was a bad feeling.

“Ain’t nobody never gonna care bout ya in dis world,” Jumi furrowed his brow, “Not me, not ya ma’da, not da clan, nobody.”

Zami stared blankly, as Jumi continued on.

“Nobody gonna do nothin’ for ya. Whatever ya want, ya gotta take it ya self.”

Jumi picked up the bow from the ground, shoving it back into Zami’s trembling little arms.

“Now, do it right dis time.”


	61. True Colors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of people got confused about the last chapter’s composition, which was intended to show important events in Zami’s history, bleeding each event further and further back in time. I tried something new however it didn’t end up working, it seems, so I apologize for the confusion created by my experimenting.
> 
> Also, switched the chapter names between this and the last chapter. Just thought each fitted the other better.

Zami poked at Zeni in the grass next to him, as Mythene cocked her head to the side.

“About you?” She shrugged, “What about you, thero’shan?”

“I ain’t…just some troll,” He mumbled, “I killed. Lots.”

Mythene frowned, glancing aside.

“Murder...death...war…” She sighed, “These are unfortunate realities of our world, as it is. Perhaps, one day, it might---”

“No,” Zami furrowed his brow, “It ain’t war dat made me kill nobody.”

He hesitated, looking away as her gaze moved back to him.

“Nobody made me kill no one,” He rolled his shoulders a little, “Mostly did it for coin, but dat ain’t really why I…”

His voice trailed off, the words lost on his lips. What could he even say? The truth? What would she think of him then? But it would be worse to lie, wouldn’t it?

“Sometimes,” Mythene spoke softly and slowly, as if trying to convince herself of her own words, “Necessities require us to...act beneath ourselves. You just...did what you had to...in order to s---”

“Survive?” Zami closed his eyes, scoffing, “Dat ain’t it neither.”

He reached up, taking off his eyepatch and setting it into the grass next to him, still gripping the dark fabric tightly.

“Then...why?”

Zami’s heart sank upon hearing the nervous tone of her voice. Her words asked why, but her tone said she didn’t really want to know. He sighed, turning his head to the side. He could feel Zeni’s little vine-arms wrap around his wrist, nuzzling its leafy body against his arm.

“Cause it…” He opened his eyes, looking over at Mythene, “Cause it all I be good at.”

“...Killing?” Mythene stared back at him.

Zami nodded slowly.

Mythene turned her head away for a moment. She was quiet, and that made Zami nervous. Her shoulders jumped up and down a little. Zami froze. Was she...crying?

“M-Mi’ten?” He reached out, touching her shoulder softly.

When he turned her back to face him, Zami’s brow knitted in confusion. She was...laughing.

“S-Sorry,” She grinned as she wiped a tear away, “You’re just...so ridiculous!”

Zami blinked at her as she continued to laugh. He wasn’t sure how he’d expected her to react to learning about his past, but this certainly wasn’t it. He found it was actually a little bit insulting.

“What be so funny?” He scowled, drawing his hand back.

“You!” Mythene chuckled, “You truly believe you have no use, skill, or purpose other than killing? Ha!”

Zami cocked his head to the side, his dreads falling across his cheek.

“Don’t see what’s so funny bout dat…”

“How is it can you not see, thero’shan” She reached out, cupping his cheek with her hand, “Even when you’ve been given sight beyond most others?”

She ran her thumb across his cheek below his green eye.

“You can do so many things, Zami. So many amazing things.”

Zami furrowed his brow again.

“Not really. And da eye don’t count. Gonk said I only got it only cause Jumi anyway.”

“You can turn yourself invisible, you’re an excellent cook, and you’re shaping up to be quite the druid. Not to mention I’ve never seen someone learn to speak Darnassian so quickly.”

Zami shrugged dismissively, glancing aside.

“I’ve seen you pull your bones out of their joints, pick locks with nothing but a rusty old fish hook, and start a fire without even needing a tinder.”

Zami shrugged again, turning his head away. Mythene pulled his chin back forward to face her.

“Not to mention,” She brought up her other hand, holding Zeni in her palm, “You make a fine gardener.”

Zami glanced down at Zeni, who hissed happily at him obliviously.

“So you see,” Mythene withdrew her hand from his cheek, delicately patting Zeni’s flower petals, “You’re good at many things, thero’shan.”

She took Zami’s hand, sliding Zeni into his palm.

“Besides…” She sat back, looking up at the sky, “You may have killed many, but at least you never killed your brother.”

“How you know?” Zami glanced over at her, “I used to have four of dem, y’know.”

Mythene just shook her head, her white hair jostling over her shoulders.

“No, I know you didn’t. You care too much,” She smiled, “You’re a worrier. A protector. You take care of people.”

Mythene glanced down.

“It’s rather funny. You used to be a hitman, and yet you care for people so evidently. Meanwhile, I’m a healer, and yet I…”

Mythene frowned, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear. Zami just watched her, silently remarking how the golden sunlight sparkled in her silver hair. He supposed that was why they called it star colored. It was pretty.

“The point is…” Mythene glanced back at him, “You’re quite amazing, Zami.”

She gave him a sweet smile and Zami felt himself blush. He looked away, hoping she didn’t notice, and shrugged a little.

“Y-Yeah...thanks,” He mumbled, rubbing his neck.

In his other hand, Zeni curled up its vines unto its body, to go to sleep.

“There you two are!”

Zami and Mythene looked up as Syrise bounded over, with Jazax in tow. Syrise glanced at Zami’s blushing face and a wide smile set on her lips.

“How’s the studying going?” Syrise clasped her hands together behind her back, stooping forward, “Hmm! What was it you two were studying again? Anatomy?”

“Talk about anatomy,” Jazax mumbled, glancing at Syrise’s behind.

“You both know we be learnin’ Darnassian,” Zami scowled at Syrise, who in turn gave Jazax a suspicious squint.

“Ah, right, right. The blushing could’ve fooled me,” Syrise said as she stood up straight, “Well anyway, Jazzy wanted to ask himself but he’s too much of a chicken, so I’ll do it for him.”

“Hey!” Jazax growled, “You wanna run me over with that trike a second time, Syrise?! And I ain’t no chicken!

“What? Just being honest!” Syrise stuck her tongue out at him,

“Hmph! Well, since there ain’t no point in hidin’ it anymore,” Jazax turned to Zami and Mythene, “When are youse gonna leave already?”


	62. Well Traveled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So excited! I have some fanart of Zami and Mythene on the way! Hee hee! Ho ho!

Zami stared ahead to the sun-bleached skeletal shark’s mouth, which marked the entrance---and, in his case, exit---of Booty Bay.

“So what’s the plan now that your brother hit the road?” Syrise asked, putting a hand on her hip, “Didn’t you guys say he was supposed to walk you through...whatever druid stuff you’re up to?”

“Dunno,” Zami shrugged, “Guess we just gonna figure it out when we get out dere.”

“Well, that sounds like an awful plan,” Syrise shrugged, “Have fun dying, I guess!”

“Gee, thanks for da vote of confidence,” Zami huffed, crossing his arms.

“Well, thank you for your hospitality,” Mythene said as she extended a hand towards Jazax, “It was lovely to meet you both.”

“Not so lovely as you, sweetcheeks,” Jazax grinned, flashing his signature smirk.

Zami was pretty sure it was supposed to be charming. It wasn’t, of course. Mythene pulled her hand back before he could kiss it, pressing her cringe into a weak grin.

“Yeah, you’re not so bad for a kaldorei,” Syrise said to Mythene, giving her a nod of approval.

“And likewise, you are the most tolerable sindorei I know of.”

The elves exchanged a pleasant handshake, and Jazax waved a hand in disinterest.

“Bah. Women. So emotional.”

He then turned to Zami and immediately his eyes began to water. He ran over and hugged Zami’s leg, gripping him like he could get blown away by the wind.

“I’m gonna miss you, buddy!” He blubbered, soaking Zami’s pantleg in tears and snot.

Again.

“Oh, ya gonna be fine,” Zami awkwardly patted the goblin’s head, half trying to comfort him and half trying to shove him away.

Jazax finally detached himself from Zami’s leg, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. And then, of course, wiping his hand on Zami’s pants. Which definitely earned him a scowl.

“Ugh, really…” Zami pushed Jazax away.

“Just somethin’ to remember me by,” Jazax said, blinking up at him innocently.

Or, at least as innocently as a goblin could attempt.

There was something nostalgic about leaving Booty Bay to wander the jungle. It really brought Zami back. It was just like the day he left. Unpleasant memories of unpleasant feelings quickly began to swarm his mind. It was so distressing that he stopped short, standing in place for just a moment.

That was enough to break him from his memories, however.

Or rather, Mythene was, when she stumbled into him.

“Hm? What’s wrong? Why did you stop?” She asked, looking up, “Did you forget something?”

“No,” Zami shook his head, “I just...thinkin’ is all…”

“About what?” Mythene furrowed her brow.

“Nothin’ really,” Zami shrugged.

Mythene frowned, tilting her head to the side. She didn’t say anything---she didn’t have to. Her look was enough to make Zami sigh and roll his shoulders.

“I dunno, guess it just be real familiar,” He said as he glanced aside, “Bringin’ back bad memories. Dis just like last time…”

“...Is it?”

Zami quirked an eyebrow at her.

“What’cha mean?”

“We’re here together this time, thero’shan,” Mythene patted his arm, “And you’re not looking to kill anyone. We’re going to observe and study the tigers, remember? So you can shapeshift.”

“So den Gonk’ll be happy,” Zami nodded, glancing aside.

He still wasn’t quite sure what this whole...hunter thing was, regarding whatever Gonk had in store for him. He hadn’t heard anything about it since that dream, weeks ago. He supposed nothing had really changed, in the end. Gonk told him to learn to shapeshift. So here he was. That was all he could work towards, for now.

Yet, lately, he’d found the whole situation with Gonk and the druid stuff...tame. At least, compared to everything involving his father and brother that had been happening lately. Frankly, he was pleased to go back to it. Dealing with his family was exhausting, and he’d missed the quiet solitude of the jungle.

Only, as Mythene had correctly pointed out, he wouldn’t be alone this time.

There was another thing Zami remembered very clearly, and that was the overall hunting grounds of the various creatures of Stranglethorn. The tigers, panthers, crocolisks, basilisks, and raptors all kept to their own. Between all of the tribes of trolls, namely the Skullsplitter and Bloodscalp. Fortunately, those two were often too busy fighting each other to have bothered with him much in the past. Both tribes did hate the Darkspear, but Zami had proven himself more trouble than it was worth.

But, again, he wasn’t alone this time.

Zami glanced over at Mythene, who was busy patting Zeni from her vest pocket as she walked beside him. He knew the Skullsplitter and Bloodscalp probably wouldn’t bother him, alone, but a little elf would surely make an inviting target.

Of course, telling her directly would be tricky. After all, he’d spent so long convincing her that he wasn’t some savage troll...and now had to warn her about the savage trolls. It wasn’t exactly easy to explain the differences between him and some random Bloodscalp. Troll politics were a bit complicated to explain, especially to an outsider.

“Uhh, Mi’ten,” Zami cleared his throat awkwardly, “Y’know, you prolly shouldn’t...go off on ya own anywhere, when we here. Might...get lost.”

“Oh, I never get lost,” Mythene shook her head, “I am quite attuned with the essence of nature. I can always find my way easily.”

Zami furrowed his brow. Why did she always have to be so independent and capable? It was endearing yet frustrating at the same time.

“Well, you ain’t never been here before,” Zami shrugged, “I just think you should, y’know, stick close. Dere be a lotta danger in dis place.”

Mythene perked an eyebrow, glancing up at him. After a moment, she nodded her head.

“Ahh, I see,” She continued to nod, “I see what this is.”

“Huh?” Zami furrowed his brow, “See what…?”

“You’re afraid,” Mythene shrugged.

“What?” Zami looked at her flatly, “No I ain’t.”

“You’re afraid of something like that happening again,” She said as she gestured towards his eyepatch, “That’s why you want me to stay with you. To heal you in case it happens again.”

Zami instinctively brought his hand up to his eyepatch, and scowled. She couldn’t be more wrong if she tried.

“I ain’t scared of nothin’ but flyin’ anymore. I just be tryin’ to look out for you,” He grumbled, glancing aside, “Don’t be actin’ like you know what ya doin’ out here. We a long way from da forest.

Mythene stopped, crossing her arms. She perked a long white eyebrow at him before knitting them both into a scowl.

“I spent over a century within the Un’goro Crater, studying the flora and fauna of such a peculiar environment. I am more than knowledgeable about the surviving within the jungle, thank you very much.”

Mythene uncrossed her arms and walked past him. Zami began to follow her before she got too far. He supposed if she was going to be so difficult about it, then he’d just have to be the one to stick with her.

“I suppose you believe I, what, spent the last three centuries never having left Teldrassil? Is that it?” She glanced back at him.

“I dunno,” Zami shrugged, “Prolly Moonglade and Ashenvale too, maybe Darkshore.”

“I began my tenure as an herbalist studying the Oasis of the Barrens,” Mythene scoffed as she turned back forwards him, “And I’ve traveled to Stormwind more times than I can recall.”

“Dat ain’t gonna help you here,” Zami pointed out, earning a dismissive shrug.

“Perhaps not, but I assure you, I can handle myself within the wilderness. Be it the muddy Swamp of Sorrows or the frosty peaks of Winterspring, I’ve fared the wilderness many places.”

“Not in da Eastern Kingdoms, it seem,” Zami mumbled, earning him a glance.

“There is no feature so unique of the Eastern Kingdoms that Kalimdor lacks.”

Zami nodded. He supposed that was, in a way, true. Although the Eastern Kingdoms, in his opinion had the far superior jungle. Un’goro was too enclosed. It almost felt artificial, in a way. The jungle just didn’t feel quite right, to him, though he couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. It was just as hot and humid, full of dangerous beasts, and its raptors were notorious for their ferocity. In theory, Stranglethorn and Un’goro were more-or-less the same. Yet something about Un’goro just seemed...odd.

“Guess ya got a point,” Zami shrugged, “But even so...would you just---”

Zami stopped short as he heard a familiar sound. His long blue ears twitched and he looked over his shoulder. It was unmistakable. A growl.


	63. Night Eye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this chapter took so long to get out. I've been having the week from hell! I still don't feel too great, but I figure you guys shouldn't have to suffer for my personal biz. Sorry about my increasingly spotty update schedule. Hope you all can bear with me. Even if it takes me a while to update sometimes, I'm never abandoning this story. Promise.

Zami gripped the hilt of his dagger, bracing for the inevitable attack. He wouldn't be caught off-guard this time. Not like last time.

"Zami?" Mythene furrowed her brow, "What are you-"

Zami held a hand out to her, stilling her. Her white eyes glanced anxiously over towards the bushes lining the side of the dirt road. The feline growling rose again, and a sleek purple panther stepped forward, baring its yellowed teeth at them. It was scrunched up, its back arched. Not good, Zami though. It was ready to pounce.

But the concern at once left Mythene's face, upon seeing the panther poised to strike. She took a step forward and the panther snarled, drawing pause again. Zami looked over at her questioningly. What was she doing, trying to run?

She just gave Zami an unreadable glance back before moving towards the bushes.

"Mi'ten, don't-"

Now it was her turn to hold a hand out towards him, drawing a confused silence. Her white eyes fell upon the yellow eye of the panther, which dilated at her gaze.

"Ishnu'alah, shal'dris," She said in a soft voice.

It was almost musical, in a haunting way. Zami furrowed his brow, working out the translation in his head. A greeting, and something like...night eye?

The panther snarled in response, albeit a much weaker gesture than before. As Mythene continued her locked gaze with the cat, its arched back began to lower a bit. Zami perked an eyebrow as Mythene stepped forward, extending her hand. At first, the panther growled a little. But it leaned its white nose forward, snorting at her purple hand. After taking her scent for a moment, the panther leaned its head forward, nuzzling against her.

"Tor'ana alu'dieb, falore shal'dris," She said softly to the panther, as she began to softly stroke its head.

Zami cocked his head to the side, lowering his knife, as the panther began to purr.

"How in da name of da Loa…" He muttered as the panther nuzzled against Mythene again.

Mythene glanced up with a faint smile.

"I told you before, didn't I? I grew up with nightsabers."

"But dat's-"

"A panther, yes," Mythene nodded, "But there is little difference in the ways they think."

Zami furrowed his brow. He certainly hadn't been expecting such a mundane answer as that. He'd expected it would've been some kind of druidic ability. After a few minutes, the panther disappeared off into the bushes, apparently having grown disinterested.

"Ande'thoras'ethil, falore shal'dris," Mythene called after the panther's departing form.

Zami recognized it as a pretty standard farewell. The night eye part was the same as before but he didn't know that one word she kept using.

"What's dat one mean?" Zami asked, as she came up beside him on the road, "Falore."

"Oh, it means sister," Mythene explained, "The panther was female, so it seemed suitable."

Zami perked an eyebrow.

"You could tell?"

"I told you," Mythene shrugged, "I grew up surrounded by nightsabers."

She paused a moment before sighing a little, and continuing her explanation.

"Do you remember when we visited Astarnaar?"

Zami perked an eyebrow again but nodded.

"Yeah, wit ya rude sista, Ca'sen."

Mythene nodded back.

"Do you remember why we left?"

"Yeah, somethin' bout some annoyin' guy, right?"

"Yes. Daras Nightwing," Mythene glanced aside, "My self-proclaimed lover...and a caretaker of various beasts. Nightsabers included. I learned most of these things from him, when we were younger."

"But I thought you hated da guy?"

"Oh, no," Mythene shook her head, "Well...not always. We used to be good friends, we were quite close."

She hesitated for a moment, glancing aside.

"But everything changed...after Enerion."

Zami frowned. He still wasn't sure what the whole story was there, but Mythene always grew especially solemn upon the mention of her brother. Though he would never dare voice the opinion aloud, there was an uncanny and unpleasantly familiar nature to the way she acted about the whole thing. It wasn't like the lament at a life lost that he felt whenever it came to his own brothers and their deaths. It reminded him much more of his own demeanor whenever Zin'aka was brought up. It was guilt, and of a special kind. Guilt of murder.

"It became hard for me to be around Daras," Mythene continued, "He reminded me so much of my brother."

Zami nodded.

"I get it," He said quietly, "Prolly better dan you know."

Mythene quirked an eyebrow but said nothing in response.

"Anyway, we should be movin' and make what distance we can fore it get too dark," Zami cleared his throat, "Travelin' da jungle at night ain't safe."

"Oh, yes, right," Mythene nodded.

They continued to walk in silence for a bit. It wasn't really an uncomfortable silence. There just wasn't really anything to talk about. Well, he supposed there was, but neither of them really felt like it right now. It was better to stay quiet, anyway. Attract less attention that way. Sure, Mythene's nightsaber trick had worked the first time, but he doubted it would go over well against a pack of raptors. Or a troll, for that matter.

Every now and again, Zami would glance up towards the sky. What bits he could see through the dense canopy, anyway. When it finally took on the orange hue of sunset, signaling that the night was fast approaching, they stopped their progress and went about setting up a little camp.

Camping in the jungle had always been pretty easy for him. Making a fire was no trouble when he was surrounded by potential fuel, and there were plenty of patches of soft moss and foliage to make into a comfortable bed.

But as he crouched to the ground next to a newly-arranged fire pit, carving a fireboard with his skinning knife, he watched Mythene try to weave herself an elaborate net of leaves and vines.

"Why you even botherin' wit dat?" Zami shrugged, "Just sleep on da ground."

"With the bugs and the spiders?" Mythene scoffed, "Absolutely not."

"Suit ya self," He shrugged again, "But it ain't gonna work."

"Yes it will," She huffed, tightening a vine knot, "I'll make a simple hammock and hang it between two trees to keep off the ground."

"What if da bugs climb down from da tree?" Zami glanced over, "Spiders like to dangle, yeah?"

"Then I'll make a canopy layer to cover me, as well!"

"Ain't gonna work," Zami chuckled, "Should just sleep on da ground."

"It will work!" Mythene hissed, crossing over two braided strands of leaves.

"No it ain't," Zami shook his head.

"Oh, is that so?" Mythene dropped the mess of leaves against her lap, scowling over at him, "And why is that, pray tell?"

"You got da plaitin' all wrong," Zami shrugged, looking back down to the fireboard he was carving in his hands, "If ya leave da ends open like dat, dey gonna slide right out soon as you put any pressure on."

Mythene furrowed her brow, sticking up her chin.

"Well, fine," She huffed, throwing everything down, "How would you do it, then?"

Zami glanced over.

"I dunno, prolly use da vines and some branches to make a loom, den layer da leaves between."

Mythene nodded, looking down at the mess she'd made. She glanced aside for a moment, looking a bit sour, then sighed.

"Will you…." She paused before sighing again, "...help me?"

"Oh? What's dis" Zami grinned, "Student becomin' da teacher, huh?"

Mythene scowled, crossing her arms.

"Don't push it, thero'shan."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation 1: Good fortune, Night Eye. (Since there was no direct word for panther, I based it off of Frostsabers being known as Dragon Belly)
> 
> Translation 2: Let us be family of nature, sister Night Eye. (Lit: Allow-Us Nature-Family, sister Night Eye)
> 
> Translation 3: Farewell, sister Night Eye. (Lit: May your troubles be diminished, sister Night Eye)


	64. In The Rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as soon as I plan to come back into the habit of posting regularly again, I get struck with terrible bronchitis and end up barely able to get out of bed for over a week! Because, why, of course! And then next thing I know, I’m violently throwing up! And then I can’t breathe and I’m hacking stuff up! So yeah, it’s been a rough two months. I’ve been sick nonstop but things are finally starting to settle down, so I can write again!
> 
> Oh and you can check out my profile for a link to see that fanart of Zami and Mythene that I mentioned before! It looks great!

There was one thing about the jungle that Zami didn’t care for, and that was the rain. It rained in Stranglethorn. A lot. Zami begrudgingly sat crouched beneath the meager shelter of a large tree, chin propped up on his hand, and lamented his meager few hours of sleep. At least, in a tiny bit of solace from the Loa, Mythene ended up no better off with her little hammock contraption. She sat next to him, arms crossed, with mud splattered all across her side and her long eyebrows knitted into a heavy scowl.

Zami glanced over at her sitting next to him. Something about seeing her soaked, with her white hair matted down and muddied, made her just look...special. It was different than usual. Usually, she was so neat and put together. But now here she was, matted hair and muddy clothes, getting eaten alive by mosquitos, the same as he was. She was...the same as he was. Huh. That was surprising. Yet, the longer he looked, the more that felt like something he already knew. And, for a moment, he couldn’t quite remember what it was about the two of them that was ever so different in the first place.

Mythene looked up, going to say something, but paused and perked an eyebrow upon the realization he was already staring at her.

“If you’re looking for your chance to gloat,” Mythene sighed and rolled her eyes, gesturing to her failed hammock attempt, “Go ahead.”

“Hm? What? Oh, yeah, told ya so,” Zami smirked, tilting his head to the side to squeeze some water out of his dreadlocks, “Was a dumb idea. Shoulda slept on da ground.”

“Okay, got that out of your system now?” Mythene asked flatly.

“I dunno, prolly could do it a bit more,” Zami shrugged, giving her a devilish grin.

Mythene rolled her eyes, reaching over and pushing him out into the rain. Zami shot a glare over to her and went to say something snarky when one of the branches over him tilted down, spilling a large amount of water directly onto him. Zami scowled, but stopped when he heard a strange sound. Glancing over, he saw Mythene was...laughing. 

At once, his scowl fell flat as he looked over at her laughing form. Her laughter wasn’t what he had expected at all. He’d have expected it to be high and clear, like a bell. If he’d expected she even laughed at all, that is. But, no, it wasn’t like what he expected. It was deeper, resonating through her chest. Hearty and full. It wasn’t a petite little squeaky elf laugh like he’d anticipated. It was...just a laugh.

And he liked it.

“You ...You should’ve seen your face!” She chuckled, wiping away a tear.

Zami looked over at her, pushing his soaked red dreadlocks out of his face.

“Yeah?” He perked an eyebrow, “Well I dunno, I think I prefer lookin’ at yours.”

A beat passed.

“Wait, dat didn’t come out right,” He added quickly, slinking back to the shelter of the tree beside her, “I just mean---”

“Of course,” Mythene nodded quickly, “You’re an ugly troll, I’m a beautiful elf. It does not take a genius to deduce what you meant. Although I’m sure being one hasn’t hurt.”

Zami paused, furrowing his brow. He glanced aside, the levity immediately sunken from his mind. Oh yeah, he thought. He remembered now. That was the difference. With a suppressed sigh, he tilted his head to the side and set about squeezing the water from his dreadlocks again. 

This time, he moved with a slow and deliberate pace, making sure he pressed every drop of water from his hair. The longer he took, the longer he wouldn’t have to look at her. Though he’d been more than happy to mere moments ago, now it felt...different. Probably because now, he was aware of the difference again. He was a troll, and she was an elf. 

“So you know this place, thero’shan. Tell me, when do you think the rain will let up?” Mythene asked suddenly, drawing him back from his thoughts.

“Huh? Oh, I dunno? A few hours?” Zami shrugged, still not looking over at her.

“Hours?” Mythene sighed, “Well isn’t that just perfect?”

Zami shrugged again, not responding verbally. After a moment, he heard a familiar hiss and couldn’t help stealing a glance over. Mythene had taken Zeni out of her pocket and set the little lasher against the ground.

“I’ll bet you’ll love the rain,” She said to it, cooing softly as her fingertips brushed the petals of Zeni’s flowerhead, “You go and get a good drink, okay?”

Mythene muttered something, making a gesture with her hand, and then Zeni’s size increased until it was back the size of a normal lasher. Zeni hissed pleasantly, whipping its vine-arms around in delight at its restored size, and shambled out into the rain. It hissed again in glee upon coming into contact with the water from the sky. That lasher did love its water, after all.

“I’m going to sleep,” Mythene sighed, leaning her back against the tree trunk, “Well, I’m going to try, anyway. I’ve never exactly slept in the mud before.”

“Weren’t ya sayin’ ya be all well-traveled before? What about Un’goro?” Zami looked over at her.

“I never left the base camp unattended,” Mythene sighed, “I was on an expedition with several other druids from the Circle. And I never slept in the mud.”

Zami wanted to think of something snarky to say, some witty one-liner about how she wasn’t the great explorer she’d previously advertised. But the truth was, he was actually more concerned than he would have expected he’d be. Despite all his previous eye rolling, actually knowing that she didn’t really know how to keep herself safe in the jungle...that made him rather anxious.

“Well, dere’s a first time for everything, right?” Zami shrugged, looking out to the rain, “Ya go ahead and sleep now.”

“What about you? Are you going to sleep?” 

Zami shook his head, giving her a slight smile.

“Somebody gotta keep watch.”

Mythene shrugged lightly and closed her eyes, leaning her head against his shoulder as she drifted off to sleep. The rather intimate gesture gave Zami pause. He glanced down at her sleeping beside him. She was totally soaked from the rain, muddy white hair matted to her purple cheek, stray silver strands stuck to her dark lips. 

And against his better judgement, he couldn’t help but find her to be rather beautiful.


	65. Cruelty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you I’d never abandon you.
> 
> And yes, this one is from Mythene's POV!

Mythene opened her eyes at the feeling of something nudging into her side, hard. She winced, furrowing her long white brow, and opened her glowing eyes into a bitter scowl.

“What are you---”

Zami slapped his hand over her mouth, muffling her words.

“Don’t say anythin’ now,” Zami whispered, glancing off to the side, “We ain’t alone.”

Mythene’s eyes flicked over to where his gaze was directed. The rain had stopped. A small group of trolls, four of them, were a short ways away, speaking amongst themselves in what she vaguely recognized as Zandali. They said it strangely, like it was a different dialect or something. Zami’s ears twitched slightly as he listened in, and Mythene remained silent so he could hear.

Out in front of them, away from the shelter of the tree, Zeni hissed a bit, stretching out towards them in an oblivious yet jovial greeting. Mythene gestured for him to be quiet, but the lasher didn’t understand, instead hissing in confusion. The noises the lasher made caused the nearby trolls to give pause, turning in their general direction. Mythene blinked several times as Zami lowered his hand, gripping at her shoulder tightly. Then he sucked in a breath, his chest falling still.

The group of four blue-haired trolls approached through the brush, muttering amongst each other in grouchy tones. They roughly shoved at each other, like each one could barely stand the presence of the others. They looked at Zeni, who hissed in confusion and stretched his vine arms out. 

Mythene felt her stomach drop as one of the trolls casually cleaved his axe clean through the thick green vine that made up most of Zeni’s body. She choked down her own gasp, feeling her fingernails dig into her palms on her lap. She could only sit there in dismay as Zeni made a weak dying hiss before all his leaves drooped, the petals of his flower-head wilting inward. When she felt Zami’s grip on her shoulder tighten painfully, she knew he felt the same way she did about what they just witnessed.

One of the other trolls poked at the corpse of their fallen lasher friend with the tip of his ramshackle spear, saying something in an inquisitive tone. He was curious, asking a question. Another troll shrugged and waved a hand dismissively, offering some glib response that earned him a dark scowl from the troll with the spear. As the two of them began to squabble, the final blue-haired troll, who carried a shoddy little shortbow, slapped his hand roughly against the axe-wielding troll on point. Then his hand pointed over towards right where Zami and Mythene were, gesturing to the vaguely person-shaped indentations in the mud around them.

In that instant, Mythene felt her stomach drop. Like that time she’d fallen clean off of the back of her hippogryph. When she first slipped from the saddle, she hadn’t screamed, or cried, or panicked. She’d just reached for the reins, and pulled herself back up. That was who she was. She wasn’t someone who froze, who sat there and meekly accepted her fate.

So why would she this time?

She silently moved a hand up towards her back, towards her staff, but stopped when she felt the hand on her shoulder squeeze. She glanced towards Zami, who shook his head at her slightly. His dreadlocks, still a bit heavy with water, smacked into his face on either side. It looked silly. If not for the situation, she might’ve laughed. Her hand lingered near her staff, but slowly lowered as she saw the determined look in his eye. She furrowed her brow in confusion, wishing she could telepathically ask him what he planned to do. Sadly, such was not within the capabilities of a druid. A mage perhaps, but not a druid.

She didn’t know what to do, and she couldn’t ask. So instead she clenched her jaw tightly, resisting every urge in her body that told her to stand up and fight, and forced herself to trust in Zami. He was, after all, smarter than your average troll.

What happened next, happened so quickly that Mythene barely had enough time to release the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. In an instant, Zami’s hand disappeared from her shoulder, suddenly on the hilt of the dagger at his hip. And then it was wedged in between the ribs of the axe-wielding troll, whose corpse became something of a shield to the hastily-fired arrows. The spear-wielding troll charged forward, the stone spearhead stabbing into Zami’s side. It definitely looked like it hurt, but it only seemed to make him angry. 

Zami pushed the arrow-addled corpse onto the archer, knocking him clean over, and cleanly slit the spearman’s throat with his dagger. It was a swift and clean move, like one he’d practiced a thousand times. In fact, every move was too perfect. Too practiced. Like this whole fight may as well have been staged for her entertainment.

Except that was when the script was broken.

The final troll, who held a crude dagger---far inferior to the one Zami held---brought it down into Zami’s shoulder, earning a growl from Zami that she could tell was profanity even with the language barrier. That word, whatever it meant, snapped Mythene from her momentary haze. Leaping to her feet, she pulled her staff from her back and swung it forward with precision, knocking the spear-wielding troll in the stomach, pushing him away from Zami’s side. When he turned to her with a murderous glint in his red eyes, she held out a hand in his direction. One clenched fist later and a beam of arcane moonlight struck the troll, illuminating his features as though he’d been struck by lightning. 

It certainly wasn’t anything like being struck by lightning, of course. What was she, a shaman? Did she look like a draenei? 

When the illumination faded, the troll collapsed onto the ground, features slackened with death. His spear fell to the ground beside him and Mythene stooped down to grab it. It couldn’t be that different from a staff, could it?

As if rising to the challenge of making her answer that question, the archer finally had wriggled free of his comrade’s corpse, his bow now trained on Mythene’s crouched form. She flinched as he nocked an arrow, with nothing to hide herself behind. She’d just have to take this one. She braced her muscles, readying to fight on through the pain of being shot, when a nicely-made dagger pierced through the archer’s left eye. The sudden distraction caused him to flinch, shooting his arrow into the ground beside her.

That was the out she needed, and Mythene jumped back, staff in one hand and spear in the other. She quickly glanced over at Zami in a sort of thanks, but he was already back into the fight, bringing his elbow into the nose of the troll with the dagger digging into his shoulder. That made him stumble back, and release the grip of the dagger in Zami’s back. Zami pulled it free, a move that made Mythene’s instincts as a healer want to smack him, and then he brought it down into the fallen troll’s stomach.

The archer shot an arrow that only narrowly missed striking Mythene, close enough that it scraped her cheek. She snapped back to attention, pulling her arm back. Two could play at that game, after all. The troll hastily reached for an arrow, fumbling to nock it, as she silently prayed her aim had somehow magically improved. The spear landing in the soil at the archer’s feet told her that Elune had ignored her this time. The archer grinned at his happenstance victory, thick blood dripping across his turquoise skin from his impaled eye. 

His victory was short-lived, however, as Zami threw his comrade’s dagger into his remaining eye. He cried out in pain and fell back into the grass, dropping his bow as he scooted back. Zami stood up, wincing a bit, and looked at Mythene. He gestured towards the archer with his arm. All hers, it meant. Well, how generous. What a gentleman. She rolled her eyes, stooping once again to pick up the spear. She approached the blinded archer, who had scurried back into a tree, and moved to bring it down into his stomach.

And then he winced, muttering a certain curse word.

That froze her gesture in midair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP Zeni (both of them)


	66. Open Wound

Zami quirked an eyebrow as Mythene suddenly stopped, right before doing the killing blow. Why would she stop? Especially after what this Skullsplitter had just called her. Then again, he supposed she wouldn’t have understood. He supposed, in a way, that was a good thing.

Zami’s eyes flicked from her to the quivering Skullsplitter, before setting his hand overtop of hers. She looked to him, lips parted to speak, but promptly stopped when he pushed her hand forward. The spear lodged in the Skullsplitter’s chest, and he made a weak snarl before going limp. Mythene quickly pulled her hand back as though she was touching a hot surface, leaving Zami with the spear. He decided to poke a few more times, to make sure he was really dead, and then left the spear lodged between the Skullsplitter’s ribs.

When he finally looked to Mythene again, her brow was knitted in a sort of pained expression. Zami quickly glanced her over for injuries, but there were none he could see. To portray his confusion at her consternation, he perked an eyebrow.

“What?” He cocked his head to the side, his dreadlocks hitting his chin, “Ya hurt?”

Mythene shook her head, standing up a little straighter. She brought a hand up to her hair, slowly running her fingers through the silver strands. She had a distant look on her face, like she was thinking of something far off. Again she opened her mouth to speak, and then shut it silently. Instead of saying whatever she had intended, she merely turned and moved over towards where Zeni’s withered corpse lay. Zami moved over to her side as she knelt down in the grass, hand trailing along the wilted roots.

“Can ya fix it?” Zami asked, pressing a hand against the wound at his side.

Still wet. Still hurt. Still not healed. He could feel the wound in his shoulder already dulling, gradually, but not at his side. He snorted in annoyance before returning his gaze to Zeni’s body.

“Well?” He continued, nudging Mythene, “Can ya fix it?”

“I’m thinking,” Mythene snapped, her tone terse and tense.

Zami leaned back a little, relaxing his shoulders. There had to be some way, right? If the priests could bring a person back from the dead, a druid bringing a plant back to life should be easy enough.

“I...I think I have an idea,” Mythene said as she held out her hand.

Zami watched closely as her hand illuminated and pressed up against Zeni’s side. The roots extended a bit to form a new torso, snaking towards the ground. The vines sunk deep into the soil, clutching at the dirt tighter than Zami clutched the reins of a wind rider. A beat passed. Nothing was happening so far. Zami cocked his head to the side. Mythene frowned.

“What now?” Zami asked, glancing between Mythene and the unmoving lasher.

“Now, I suppose we wait,” She said as she took out her waterskin.

She opened it and spilled the water across the roots and their surrounding soil. She moved slowly, deliberately. Although Zami was pretty sure she was just watering a plant, she moved with the precision of a trained surgeon. As a result, even without any visible results, Zami already felt a bit at ease about the whole situation. If anyone could fix Zeni, he knew Mythene could do it.

While Mythene tended to Zeni, Zami paused to check his side again. Still not healed. His shoulder felt fine now, although it was still sticky with dried blood. But the wound at his side still ran wet. Still open. Still unhealed. That was a little concerning. It wasn’t like he could only regenerate a single injury at once. He knew that from experience. And it was clear his regeneration was still working, if his shoulder was anything to go by. So why not his side?

He decided it was either the depth of the wound or the size. Either that, or regeneration really did slow down a good deal with age. It had been a long time since he’d had to regenerate two wounds at once, after all. Years. Probably not since his Cartel days. Or, heck, maybe it was just due to his lack of sleep. That was as good a theory as any, he supposed.

Zami cautiously rolled his shoulder a little, testing it. No pain. It was fully healed. Next he touched his side tentatively. Nope. Still wounded. Pausing to wipe his now-bloody hand on his pant leg, he looked back over at Mythene.

“Anything yet, mon?”

She just shook her head.

“Ah, I ain’t worried,” He shrugged, “You gonna figure it out.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence, but…”

She trailed off, fingers kneading into her empty waterskin. Zami frowned. He slapped his hand against her shoulder lightly.

“Well, we got time,” He shrugged, “I ain’t gonna be fit to travel like dis.”

Mythene finally looked over at him, eyes going right to his side. So she’d already noticed it.

“Shouldn’t that have regenerated by now?” She furrowed her brow.

Zami just shrugged again. In response, she pinched her lips together tightly.

“Here, let me try something…” She said as she brought her hand to his side.

Zami hissed a little from the contact. It stung. Mythene just closed her eyes, muttering under her breath as her hand began to glow. A moment later, the glowing faded. But the pain didn’t.

Mythene removed her hand, perking an eyebrow as she saw the wound remained.

“How bizarre. That should have healed it.”

She paused to try again, in vain, before setting a hand upon her chin in thought. Zami rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. It was hot out, and he was getting sweaty.

“That should have healed any wound. Unless, of course, it was…”

Mythene quickly stood up, moving past him towards the corpse of the blinded archer. She wrenched the spear free, and brought the gory spearhead towards her face. She peered at it closely, before waving a glowing hand towards it. Zami squinted to see what she was doing, but his vision was beginning to blur. By the Loa, it was getting awfully hot out…

“Just as I thought!” Mythene frowned, before turning towards him, “Thero’shan, I think this spear is...hm? Thero’shan?”

Zami staggered a little, grunting as he fell over. The ground hit harder than it should’ve. Mythene hurried to his side.

“Thero’shan?” She asked quickly, getting only a slurred grumble in response.

It was so hot out.

“Thero’shan?” Mythene repeated, as his vision began to dim, “Zami? Are you…”

Whatever else she said to him was drowned by the ringing in his ears. And then everything went black.


	67. Fever Dream

Zami felt a hand nudging at his shoulder, and only gave a tired grunt in response. He didn’t want to open his eyes, he didn't want to wake up. He was tired. His body was tired. He felt heavy. But the hand didn’t move away, nudging his shoulder once again. He stubbornly kept his eyes closed, somehow sure the hand would move away and leave him be soon enough.

And then he heard that word that made his eyes---yes, both of them---snap open.

“Fa’da,” The young male voice whined in Orcish, before adding in Zandali, “You promised you would take me hunting this morning.”

“I...wha…?” Zami sat up, blinking at the child in front of him in bleary confusion.

He had turquoise skin, like himself, and little budding tusks that looked like miniature mammoth tusks. His hair, which was parted into four tight rows of braids against his scalp, was a shade between his fiery red and a bold magenta. That made the skin of his neck prickle. That was like…

The hand at his chest that he previously hadn’t noticed slid away, and Zami’s head turned to the figure laying on the sleeping mat with him. His breath hitched.

Zinaka yawned, wrinkling her nose a little as she did. It was a cute little intimate feature he’d always noticed she did.

“Dat boy’s too loud,” She grumbled, in Orcish for some reason.

Come to think of it, he’d never heard her speak Zandali before.

“Ma’da,” The little boy whined to Zinaka, confirming Zami’s suspicions, “Make fa’da get up.”

In response, Zinaka just shrugged at him tiredly, rubbing her eyes.

“Ya did promise,” She offered.

Before he knew it, Zami was being pulled by the hand away from the blankets by this little boy, who for some reason had the strength of a grown man and could drag him around like he was the child between them. As he stumbled groggily after the child, body still feeling heavy, he glanced as his surroundings. Immediately, he felt recognition. This was the house he grew up in; it was only natural he recognize it. But if he was at home, then that meant he was back in Sen’jin Village. And wasn’t he banished?

He paused to squint as they passed the window at the top of the stairs, the sunlight of early morning shining right into his eyes. Wait, what? That was weird, too. The sun always rose the other way, against the other side of the house. He’d seen enough sunsets out that window to know. He only had a second to realize that before the little boy was dragging him down the stairs.

“Fa’da,” The boy looked back with a whine, “Stop bein’ so slow!”

Zami just gaped at him in a confused stupor, before noting he looked different. Wait, where were his tusks now?

“Oi, son,” Zinaka called from the landing at the top of the stairs, “Go easy on da old man.”

Zami glanced up at her and he felt his jaw clench. Zinaka was sitting there slumped against the railing, just a bloody corpse with her eyes glassy white and features slackened.

“Yes, ma’da,” The boy sighed obediently, as though nothing were wrong.

Zami wheeled back to face the boy, whose hair had turned a silvery white.

“You will do well to mind that tone,” A different voice called from the railing, and Zami quickly looked back up.

Zinaka’s corpse was gone, replaced with Mythene standing there.

“Sorry, Min’da,” The boy mumbled, now sporting matching white eyebrows.

Zami furrowed his brow, recognizing the Darnassian word for mother. Wait, was the boy’s mother Zinaka or Mythene?

“Wh-What in da name of da Loa…” Zami muttered, withering away from both the boy and Mythene’s direction.

“Hmm?” Mythene paused to prop her purple hand against her chin, “What’s the matter, surfal?”

Zami felt the prickle at the back of his neck again as his face grew hot, recognizing that word too.

Beloved.

Hearing Mythene call him a term of endearment like that made his stomach feel strange. Like getting punched, but without it hurting. He quickly shook his head, not wanting to even think about it. Or the fact that Zinaka had always made him feel the same way.

“An’da?” The ever-changing little boy blinked his newly-appeared glowing white eyes at him.

Zami shivered a little at being called father in Darnassian, taking another step away.

“Zami?” Mythene frowned, “You’re acting awfully strange.”

She pursed her lips, examining him in that way she always did when she could see what he was thinking.

“What’s wrong, An’da?” The little elf child blinked, holding a hand out towards him.

Zami flinched away nervously, drawing a look of hurt confusion from the little boy. In that instant, Mythene was suddenly already down standing next to the boy, and put her hand supportively on his shoulder. Zami blinked at her in confusion.

“Stop acting so bizarre,” Mythene chided, “You’re scaring Zeni.”

Zami blinked again, moving his gaze back to the little boy. Who was now a lasher.

Zeni hissed nervously, clinging its vine-arms to Mythene’s leg like a child. Wait, wasn’t Zeni…? As if in response to his thoughts, the lasher’s torso suddenly split in two and he collapsed.

“Ana’dorei?” Mythene whispered a gasp, crouching next to the wilted lasher.

My child, it meant.

The room was suddenly very dark, like a great shadow passed over the house. Like it was the still of night. Mythene and the lasher were both gone. He was alone in the room. He furrowed his brow, glancing around in confusion. His mother’s tapestry wavered slightly in its place against the wall. He squinted at it, seeing something moving inside of it like a dancing flame inside a lantern.

Suddenly, the ground rumbled, and the house collapsed around him into nothingness. He wasn’t in Sen’jin Village anymore. He was standing in the middle of that strange jungle, the roar of the waterfall behind him and two glowing blue eyes before him.

“Do you intend to make me wait?” Gonk growled, an unbridled rage gleaming from behind those glowing eyes.

Zami froze as Gonk’s jaw unhinged. He couldn’t move, as the Loa’s mouth snapped closed around him, swallowing him in total darkness. It was so hot in there, like he was burning alive.

He looked around, sitting in that empty darkness for a moment. Then he noticed a small circle of white light, shining above. He reached up towards it, taking it into his hand and bringing it near himself. He glanced to the disk of light, seeing it was like looking through a keyhole. Pressing his face to his hand to peer through, he was suddenly met with the sound of his tusks scraping against wood.

He backed away, his back hitting wood too. He glanced around, seeing he was trapped inside of a wooden box. Wait, he realized, he’d been here before. In Felwood. He slowly brought his face up to the hole again, expecting to peer out to the plagued woods.

But he was wrong.

It wasn’t the eerie dead forest of Felwood. It was the jungle. It was Stranglethorn. And he was there. Sort of.

He squinted through the hole in the box, staring at himself lying unconscious against the grass. Mythene was shaking him, calling desperately for him to wake up. He frowned, the realization finally hitting him. That’s right. He remembered now. He was here. There.

That was the real him.


	68. The Deal

As he watched Mythene try in vain to wake him, sporting a furrowed brow, Zami suddenly felt very cold. He shivered. A deep sense of dread welled up from the pit of his being.

“It’s time to go,” A deep, sinister voice said in Zandali, making another chill go down his spine.

He knew who it was. He knew with every fiber of his being.

“Go where?” He asked dumbly, stalling for time.

A quiet chuckle.

“You know where.”

Zami frowned.

“I-I don’t want to go,” He admitted meekly.

“They never do.”

“I’m not ready.”

“They never are.”

Zami hesitated.

“I don’t want to go…” He said again, trying his best to sound steely this time.

A beat passed. He felt a twinge of something like hope. But it was dashed as soon as the voice laughed. It was a deep, mocking laugh. A moment later, it disappeared as soon as it had arrived.

“Who says you get a say?” The voice hissed in his ear.

Zami clenched his jaw, brow knitted. He never broke his gaze from Mythene’s feverish attempts to rouse him. She was all alone, stranded in the middle of the jungle...

“Now come along. I have other work to do, you know.”

Zami hesitated.

“Well?”

Still he hesitated.

There was an annoyed growl, and a skeletal troll’s hand gripped onto his shoulder. He was spun around to face the much larger troll. He wasn’t really a troll, of course; he was a Loa. Zami gave a cursory glance to the skeletal rush’kah mask of the figure in front of him. 

Just like the stories, he thought.

Only, the stories never mentioned his blue eyes that burned with icy blue fire.

“You’re really trying my patience,” Bwonsami sneered, “You can’t stay here forever. Now come with me to the Other Side.”

The skeletal hand tugged him, to give him the push to get moving. But Zami resisted. His mind moved as quickly as it could.

“W-Wait,” He shrugged out of Bwonsami’s grip, earning an annoyed glance.

He braced himself, steeled himself, as Bwonsami growled impatiently.

“Let’s make a deal,” Zami blurted, like he had to get the words out before he lost his nerve.

Immediately, the Loa’s demeanor changed. No longer annoyed. Curious. But it only lasted a moment.

“You have nothing I want,” Bwonsamdi said with a dark grin, “You’re already here.”

Zami panicked briefly, but swallowed his fear.

“Let me go back,” He glanced back towards Mythene, “And I’ll do the rite of binding.”

He flicked his gaze towards Bwonsamdi, who didn’t look all that impressed.

“The soul of everything I kill will go to y---”

“I know what it is,” Bwonsamdi cut him off, “Interesting offer…”

Zami grimaced. He didn’t like the way Bwonsamdi stared down at him, making him feel small and insignificant. 

“Maybe I would’ve taken such a deal, once,” Bwonsamdi said nonchalantly, “An assassin as skilled as you, bound to me? Tempting.”

Zami furrowed his brow hopefully.

“But you’re not an assassin. Not anymore.”

His hope fell. Again. Bwonsamdi seemed good at doing that.

“But---”

“Besides,” Bwonsamdi spoke over him, “Your soul is already bound to Gonk.”

Bwonsamdi gave him another cruel smile.

“So you’ve got nothing to bargain with.”

Zami felt the panic rising in his chest and he shut his eyes. Think. Think. Think. 

Maybe he could...no.   
But if he...no.   
Maybe there was...no. 

He dropped his head in defeat after a minute, coming up empty. His dreadlocks fell forward against his cheek, the little wooden fetish in his hair clinking.

Bwonsamdi took note of it, reaching out and tapping it with his bony fingers. A sadistic smirk came to his face.

“Mercy?” He grinned, “That’s cute.”

Bwonsamdi’s icy hand moved away and he saw the defeat on Zami’s face, giving a pleased smirk for his victory. He turned to lead Zami off, into that vast darkness, to the Other Side.

But then...an idea.

Zami jerked his head up.

“Wait!” He all but gasped, not realizing he hadn’t been breathing.

Bwonsamdi paused, glancing back. He had a knowing smile. Like he sensed the desperation in Zami’s voice. Like he knew this would be the better deal.

“I can’t give you my soul, okay,” Zami nodded slowly, as Bwonsamdi returned in front of him, looking down expectantly, “But I can give you someone else, someone better. They can take my place.”

“Oh?” Bwonsamdi smirked, looking caught somewhere being unimpressed and amused.

“I can give you…” Zami swallowed hard, heart hammering in his chest, “...the greatest hunter alive.”

This piqued Bwonsamdi’s interest. Zami could see it in his eyes, the way the flames sparked, and in the way his smile grew.

“Can you now?” Bwonsamdi began to circle around him like a vulture.

Zami could tell that he was interested, but would he take a bite? He’d have to sweeten the deal, just to be sure.

“A-And I’ll perform the ritual of binding on him,” He continued, voice shaky, “Everything he’s ever killed will be yours.”

Bwonsamdi stopped short, once again in front of Zami, his smile growing. He turned to face him, grin growing even wider. He said nothing with his words, merely extending his skeletal hand. It began to glow in blue flames, just like his eyes.

Zami hesitated before reaching out, feeling the bony fingers clamp around his hand like ice, painfully tight. He winced, gritting his teeth a little. His whole body felt heavy. And so very, very hot.

His vision began to dim, and the last thing he heard was Bwonsamdi’s sinister laughter. Then everything went dark.

A moment later, his eyes shot open, and he gasped for air. He hastily gripped at the ground on either side of him, ripping at the grass just to make sure he was really there. That he wasn’t just being tricked. It sure felt real. His body felt stiff. Cold.

It was a welcome change from the heat.

His vision came into focus and he looked up, seeing Mythene peering down at him wide-eyed. She looked terrified. For a second, he thought maybe Bwonsamdi had played some kind of cruel joke, like made him come back as a zombie or something. He sat up slowly, going to speak, but suddenly Mythene lurched forward, hugging him.

“Thero’shan! Thank goodness!” She mumbled, “You had no pulse! I thought---I---oh, thank Elune…”

No, thank Bwonsamdi, he thought to himself.

After a moment, Mythene suddenly released him, as quickly as she’d latched on. Her cheeks were flushed. She cleared her throat, glancing away. After a moment, she sighed quietly and looked back at him.

“I’m really glad you’re okay,” She said quietly, like it was a confession.

Zami found it was now his turn to blush and glance aside. He had that feeling again in his stomach. He ignored it, forming words in his head and looking back at Mythene.

“Yeah,” He nodded lightly, “Cause you would be lost, right?”

Mythene furrowed her brow slightly.

“What? No, because I…” She trailed off, frowning, “...besides, I’m not alone.”

Zami perked an eyebrow, going to speak when he was cut off by the sound of excited hissing.


	69. Direction

Zami couldn’t be more eager to get moving. He wanted to move as far away from that thicket as possible. That place. That place where he died. It still was strange to consider. That he’d really died, his soul moved beyond the reaches of any healer’s resurrection spell. That he’d seen Bwonsamdi. That he’d made a deal with Bwonsamdi. A deal for his father’s head. It was a lot to take in.

And he really wasn’t up for taking it in right now.

“Thero’shan!” Mythene huffed, hurrying behind him, “Would you slow down?”

“Hm?” Zami paused, causing her to rush into his back, “Ah...sorry, Mi’ten.”

“What’s the rush?” She asked, stepping back and crossing her arms, “You’ve been quiet ever since that incident this morning.”

Her eyes scanned his face, searching for answers as she usually did, but Zami was certain this would be the one time she wouldn’t be able to figure him out.

“It ain’t nothing,” Zami shrugged, beginning to walk once more, “Just keepin’ quiet so we don’t run into no more Skullsplitters.”

Mythene began to walk alongside him, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. For a moment, Zami was nervous that she’d keep pushing for answers. But she remained silent, just watching him. After a moment, her expression softened and she turned to face forward.

Something about her reaction felt...odd. If there was one thing he knew about Mythene, it was that she spoke her mind. He glanced in her direction and went to speak, but was cut off by hissing coming from the path between him and Mythene. He glanced down as Zeni happily wiggled between them. It was a little bit shorter now, but otherwise seemed to be fine.

That was a relief. Surprisingly. Zami hadn’t realized how much he actually cared about that little lasher, until it was laying withered on the ground. It made sense to care, he supposed. The lasher was always clinging to him, or Mythene, and he’d planted it himself. He thought about his dream, with Zeni being as his child or something. Funny, he thought. He didn’t really care all that much for his actual flesh and blood, not as much as that little lasher. 

His thoughts wandered back to the imagery of that dream. He’d seen so many things. He’d seen Sen’jin Village, and Gonk, and Zin’aka….and Mythene. As his wife. Now that, that was strange. Maybe it made sense for Zin’aka, but not Mythene. He’d never thought about her that way. 

...Right? 

Zami glanced over at her once more, just to make sure. She, too, was lost in her own thoughts, absentmindedly running her lavender fingers through her shoulder-length silver hair. The sunlight caught in her hair, shining like the starlight it was named for. It was pretty. He smiled. She noticed, and perked a long white eyebrow at him curiously. He instantly looked away from her, feeling like he’d been caught doing something mischievous. As soon as he realized it, he silently cursed his knee jerk reaction.

Yeah, right. He definitely didn’t think of her as anything more than a mentor. She was just kind of pretty. You know, for an elf. That’s all.

He supposed it was curious, sure, but nothing in that dream made a lick of sense anyway. It probably would be pointless to think about it as if it meant something. It’d just been his brain doing what it needed to do as he.... 

As he…died.

Zami quickly shook his head, trying to physically shake the thoughts away. He didn’t want to deal with that right now. He wasn’t ready to take that in just yet. There’d be time for it later. Much later. When there was less to be concerned with.

Like Skullsplitters, or Bloodscalps, or tigers, or crocolisks, or raptors…

Raptors.

Zami nearly tripped over himself, instantly coming to a halt as the realization hit him like a brick wall. It’d been months. It’d been months since he’d been in Stranglethorn!

Mythene looked over at him, furrowing her brow, as he brought his hands to his face and groaned.

“What is it, thero’shan?” Mythene asked quietly, extending a hand to touch his arm, “Do you feel unwell? Could the poison still be in your sys---”

“It ain’t dat,” Zami lowered his hands, looking over at her with regret.

Mythene just blinked at him. Zami sighed and began to stride forward quickly. A beat later, Mythene was hurrying behind him, expression still fixed in confusion.

“We gotta go to Grom’gol,” He clicked his tongue, looking about to get his sense of direction.

“Where…?”

“Da orc base camp,” Zami explained quickly.

“Orc…?” Mythene perked an eyebrow.

“Yeah, dey got---!” He stopped short again, causing her to once again knock into his back, “Dat’s right, you an elf….”

“Yes, thank you,” Mythene huffed, stepping back, “I wasn’t aware.”

“No no, I mean, you an elf,” Zami said, feeling like he couldn’t express the thought properly, “Alliance.”

Mythene put a hand on her hip, cocking her head to the side.

“I am a druid of the Cenarion Circle foremost. I’m sure---”

“Dat don’t matter,” Zami shook his head, “Alliance is Alliance.”

Mythene looked at him flatly, earning an exasperated shrug. It wasn’t Zami’s fault that the orcs probably wouldn’t care either way.

“Well then, what do you suggest we do?” She perked an eyebrow, “Shall I wait in the jungle outside the camp?”

Zami shook his head.

“Nah, too many raptors. Da Lashtail have da breedin’ grounds dere.”

“Well? Then what, shall I disguise myself as an orc?”

Zami paused, putting a hand on his chin.

“Dat gives me an idea…”

“...Surely you jest,” Mythene frowned, “You know I was joking, don’t you? I look nothing like----”

“Not dat.”

Mythene slowly rose an eyebrow as he removed the pack from his back, rustling through it. He knew he had some. They’d stocked back up in Booty Bay.

“Where is dat rope…”

Mythene blinked at him before crossing her arms over her chest.

“Rope? What in the name of Elune do you need rope for?”

“Aha, here it is,” Zami said as he pulled out the coil of rope.

He then held out a hand to Mythene.

“Gimme ya wrists.”

“Excuse me?”

“Be pretty easy to pass ya off as a prisoner, but it gotta be convincing.”

Mythene squinted at him suspiciously before holding out her hands. Zami quickly bound them together by the wrists.

“Ouch,” Mythene hissed, as Zami pulled the rope taut.

He gave her an apologetic glance.

“Gotta be convincing,” He repeated.

Mythene just huffed, pulling her bound wrists back to her chest.

“Remind me, why exactly are we going to this orc cam---hey!”

Zami roughly hoisted Mythene up over his shoulder, earning him an angry smack against his back.

“What in the name of Elune are you---”

“Gotta be convinci---ow, would ya stop kicking me?”

“Put me down this instant!” Mythene cried as she kicked harder, “This is entirely undignified!”

“Maybe I shoulda bound ya legs too…” Zami mused aloud, and the kicking ceased.

Mythene gave a defeated sigh, leaning her elbows against Zami’s back so she could prop up her chin.

“I’ll ask again now, if you don’t mind. Why must we go to this orc camp?”

Zami glanced down, a brief look of guilt flashing across his face, before he began to walk forward once again.

“I...left somethin’ at Grom’gol.”

Mythene perked an eyebrow, staring out at the receding jungle behind them.

“And what, pray tell, might that be?”

Zami frowned, hesitating a moment, before giving a quiet sigh.

“My...daughter.”


	70. Savages

“Hmm…” Commander Aggro’gosh scratched his chin with the blunt end of one of his axes, eyeing Mythene suspiciously, “Where did you find this one again, troll?”

Zami slumped forward a little bit, annoyed that even after all these years, Aggro’gosh still couldn’t remember his name.

“Told ya, mon,” Zami tsked, rolling his shoulders a little---and jolting Mythene in the process, “Won it in a card game.”

Aggro’gosh eyed Mythene again, perking a thick black eyebrow curiously.

“And what is it you intend to do with this Alliance scum?” He asked in a firm voice, which still couldn’t mask his curiosity, “Torture it for information? You know they only speak the weak, flowery tongues.”

“Ashte’izsera,” Mythene uttered under her breath, earning a squeeze of warning on her leg from Zami.

Now was definitely not the time to be calling anyone ugly.

“Well?” Aggro’gosh propped an axe against his shoulder, “For what reason is---”

“Cookin’ it,” Zami said quickly, without batting an eye.

Aggro’gosh looked at him flatly, as if trying to measure his face for seriousness, before rolling back his balding head in a resigned manner.

“Ugh. Trolls,” He simply sighed, signalling for Zami to pass the gate.

Once they were past the gate, Zami quickly looked around. No sign of her. Frowning, he quickly approached Nimboya, who was hanging around his cauldron as per usual, adding random bits of this and that to the bubbling brew.

“Nimboya---”

“Hey! Look who it is!” He looked up grinning, “Ya got a new eye!”

“Yeah, anyway. Do--”

“And a woman!”

“Nim---”

“Ohh, she just an elf,” Nimboya tsked in disappointment.

But a second later he perked up, pointing his thumb to the cauldron.

“Wanna cut it up and add it to the pot?” He suggested innocently.

While Mythene muttered indignantly in Darnassian over his shoulder, Zami just shook his head.

“Nah, gonna eat it later,” He said quickly, before adding, “You seen my raptor around?”

“Mm, da blue-green one?”

Zami nodded, and Nimboya shook his head.

“Nah, dat beastie ran off a few weeks back.”

Zami cocked his head to the side, nearly pushing Mythene off his shoulder.

“Ran off?” He perked a brow, “Where?”

“Dunno,” Nimboya shrugged, “Da jungle?”

Zami paused to look out to the shady jungle. Did Aka really run off? Did she think he abandoned her? Did he abandon her? No, of course not. He never meant to be gone so long. Otherwise he never would’ve left her behind. He would’ve dragged that raptor, who hated flying as much as if not more than him, onto that airship and crossed the sea with her by his side. If he’d only known what would really come of that little family visit. Zami felt a tug at his heartstrings from the thought. He was wondering where Aka was, and what she thought. Did she feel he’d left her on purpose? Was that why she ran off? Or maybe she was just bored of waiting around and went to do something fun? That was possible too, right? 

Raptors were intelligent. Any troll knew that. Any troll could tell you. Other races would never understand them. They could mount and train raptors just fine. He’d seen more than a few orcs do so, and even a few of the Forsaken tried their hand at riding a raptor. But they never understood them. But trolls did. That’s why raptors always preferred trolls. And trolls always preferred them. Zami felt too big, and stupid, on the back of a horse. Skeletal or otherwise. Kodo were fine as beasts of burden, but too big and slow and skittish for his liking. It would take them several minutes just to cross a small stream, especially if startled. Orcich wolves, he could appreciate. They were cunning hunters, and he’d always felt some kind of kinship with the beasts of the land, even as a child.

But raptors, they were special.

They, too, were cunning hunters. But they didn’t merely chase down rabbits or plainstriders. Raptors in the wild were almost… a people. He’d seen the intelligence in their eyes, and the deliberate way they moved. He knew they would decorate themselves with feathers, and a raptor’s breeding grounds was always more than just a place for eggs. It was a village. All raptors, no matter Lashtail or Vemonhide, had a society built off of hierarchy.

Outsiders never liked to believe in such things, rarely giving the raptor its due credit as an intelligent beast. In the eyes of others, raptors were no more than mindless animals, reveling in carnage and hungering with insatiable bloodlust. They were called violent, and crude, and savage. Just like their masters. 

Just like trolls.

And that was the real reason why no outsider would ever really understand raptors the way a troll could.

“Zami, mon?” Nimboya waved a hand in front of Zami’s face, drawing him back from his thoughts, “You sure you don’t wanna chop her up and drop da pieces in da pot?”

He sounded hopeful. But Zami shook his head, of course, earning a disappointed sigh.

“Ya loss,” He said in singsong, hoping to sound enticing.

Zami just rolled his eye. That was when he noticed the beady gaze of an orc boring into his side. But it wasn’t just any orc. It was Far Seer Mok’thardin. Zami frowned. Seeing his gaze noticed, the Far Seer began to approach.

Well, that couldn’t be good.

“Zami of the Darkspear,” The older orc said in greeting, nodding his head, “You return to us, with….this.”

His hand vaguely gestured towards Mythene, who just scowled at him grumpily. The expression he returned to her was stone cold, before he shifted his piercing gaze to Zami. It reminded him how he’d always been too uncomfortable to approach this guy. Something about the way the old orc looked at him made the fur on his neck prickle and stand on end. He didn’t like it. It gave him a bad feeling.

“If…” Mok’thardin paused to move a long purple braid out of his face, “...you are free, Zami, I would speak to you, in private.”

Zami nodded and turned to follow Mok’thardin, but the old orc held up a gloved hand to him.

“Without the elf.”


	71. Troll's Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! I lost power for a few days and then just had my birthday, my mom’s birthday, and my aunt’s birthday! Plus my cousin’s birthday is in a few days! So, yeah, I’ve been busy! 
> 
> Also, since I answered it in a private question, I thought I’d tell all of you! Zami’s height is 8’5” (~259 cm) and Mythene’s height is 7’2” (~219 cm)!

Zami shifted uncomfortably as he sat in the Far Seer’s tent, watching the old orc continue to grind a liferoot into a sandy powder, as he had been doing for the past several minutes. It kind of reminded him of the witch doctors back home. He wondered what he was going to be making with that. Remaining silent, he cocked his head to the side slightly, his dreads hitting his cheek. The fetish rattled lightly, and Mok’thardin finally glanced over in his direction.

“So…” The Far Seer paused to drop a handful of sandy powder into a bowl, “...you’ve abandoned the Horde?”

Zami instantly furrowed his brow, leaning forward a bit. Half from surprise, half from offense.

“What?” He snapped, a bit more defensively than he had intended.

Mok’thardin just looked back to the bowl in his hand, dropping in some bruiseweed leaves. The lack of any real response only made Zami all the more annoyed.

“I ain’t no traitor,” He hissed, jutting out his chin.

“Ah, is that so?” Mok’thardin uttered with disinterest.

“Yeah,” Zami growled, trying not to get too angry.

The Far Seer just paused, dropping one last leaf into the mixture.

“Hm. Well, I won’t ask about the elf then.”

Zami blinked a moment and then went to speak, to give the same excuse he had to the others, but Mok’thardin just kept talking.

“Many moons ago, when the heat of summer was mild, I had a vision,” He began, “I didn’t understand it at the time. It made no sense to me…”

Zami cocked his head to the side curiously. What was this old guy on about now?

“Yet now the elements whisper to me your name…” The Far Seer paused, glancing over with tired eyes, “...Zen’Zami.”

Zami sat up a little straighter, caught off guard by the usage of his new name. To be honest, he’d sort of forgotten about it himself. He didn’t really like it and nobody used it, except maybe Zen’Tabra. And there was no way that Mok’thardin was talking to Zen’Tabra. She was back in Moonglade, trying to get his people fully accepted by the Cenarion Circle.

“Take it off,” The Far Seer said suddenly as he shook the bowl a bit, mixing the ingredients together, “The eyepatch. Take it off.”

Hesitantly, Zami reached up to his face and pulled the eyepatch down. Mok’thardin looked over and nodded a moment before looking back to his mixture. Seeing he was no longer interested in his eye, Zami quickly put the eyepatch back in place. How did he know about his eye too? Was he spying on him all this time? Was this some kind of plot of the Warchief? How could he even...

His thoughts were interrupted by the old orc chuckling.

“You seem confused, Zen’Zami. Did I not just tell you? The elements speak your name,” He shook his head lightly in amusement, purple braids swinging, “...And more.”

Zami cocked his head to the other side. He didn’t know much about shamanism. He was pretty sure that somebody back home had tried to teach him, once upon a time, but he’d never paid much attention. He knew something about the elements and he’d seen plenty of totems before, but that was really where his knowledge stopped.

So, naturally, he had a lot of questions. But they all meshed up into a single word.

“Why?”

Mok’thardin looked over at him and shrugged emphatically.

“How should I know? I only know what they tell me.”

Zami looked back at him flatly, hissing slightly in annoyance.

“Well, dat ain’t no help, old man,” He grumbled, before getting thonked in the head by the crystal sphere at the end of Mok’thardin’s staff.

“I’m not that old,” The Far Seer sniffed, turning back to the bowl.

Zami growled and rubbed his head, watching as Mok’thardin took the mixture and added water. Zami wrinkled his nose and glanced aside, instantly recognizing the teal liquid that formed from the mixture. Troll’s blood. That’s what it was called. It wasn’t real troll’s blood, of course, but the name still made him uncomfortable.

Mok’thardin ignored Zami’s displeased faces and carried on stirring the mixture, before pouring it into a vial. Then he closed it with a cork and held it out to Zami.

“What’s dat for?” Zami perked an eyebrow.

Again, Mok’thardin shrugged. 

“Maybe you’ll need it.”

Zami grumbled but took the potion, supposing there was no reason to fight it. A potion was a potion. Maybe he could fetch a silver or two for it. Someone was always looking for a potion. Maybe he could try the Auction House with it.

“You may go now,” Mok’thardin began, “But a word of caution to you, Zen’Zami.”

Zami perked an eyebrow, as Mok’thardin turned and began to clean the pestle he’d ground the liferoot with.

“If I can hear your name spoken by the elements, then so can others. And not all may merely wish to give you a potion and send you on your way.”

Zami nodded, already knowing full well the dangers that came with being himself. He’d already made enough enemies. The Bloodsail Buccaneers still hated him for stealing one of their ships. The Emerald Coven still were after him to...do whatever it is they were going to do. Sacrifice him, he supposed? And now potentially some bad apples from the Earthen Ring were going to be on his case too? Well, isn’t that just lovely. Par for the course for the life of the troll called Zami, of course. With a tired sigh, he stood up and turned to exit the tent. But then the orc spoke up once more.

“So curious, though...” Mok’thardin muttered, causing Zami to pause half-way out of the tent.

He looked back over his shoulder towards the orc and cocked his head to the side, his fetish rustling.

“What’s dat?” He blinked, “Curious?”

“Hm? Oh,” Mok’thardin shrugged a little, “I just thought it’s a strange little thing.”

“What is…?”

“Well, in my visions of you, it was as red as your hair.”

Zami perked an eyebrow again, and Mok’thardin brought a hand up to cover his own eye.

“It was red.”


	72. Keeping Up Appearances

Zami cocked his head to the side as he watched the absurd scene playing out before him. Nimboya was trying, in vain, to stuff an extraordinarily sweaty Mythene into the boiling cauldron. It wasn’t working out very well for him, seeing as she was keeping herself firmly propped up on either side of the pot with her legs.

“C’mon, elfy, just get in da pot! It only hurt a second,” Nimboya cooed, as Mythene uttered back a string of Darnassian too quick for Zami to register.

It didn’t sound very friendly, though.

Zami watched the two of them struggle, neither able to overpower the other, before his amusement at the bizarre situation faded and he decided to step in.

“Nimboya,” Zami tsked as he approached, causing the other troll to jump in surprise.

This gave Mythene an opening to elbow him in the nose, and wriggle to the sweet freedom of falling on her face into the dirt. Zami snorted in amusement, perking an eyebrow in feigned annoyance at Nimboya.

“Didn’t I say not to put her in da pot?”

As Nimboya quickly offered a string of three separate and rather disjointed excuses, Mythene sat up and spat out a clump of grass. Zami smirked at the sight, unable to really hear anything Nimboya was saying.

Part of him, somewhere deep inside, was relishing the sights he’d seen of her in the jungle. So out of her element. That part of him loved seeing her get taken down a peg, maybe as a bit of retribution for how she’d been to him back when they met.

But another part of him, the part more present in his mind, felt something else.

It wasn’t pity. He definitely wasn’t feeling sorry for her. He was pretty sure he respected her too much. Wait, he respected her? How long had that been a thing? Maybe since he’d met her sister. Since she’d changed.

She had changed, hadn’t she? He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, given all that had been going on with Zalu and Jumi, but Mythene’s interactions with Syrise should’ve been telling of just how much she’d changed. The elf he’d first met all those months ago never would’ve even shaken hands with a blood elf.

Thinking back on it, he began to wonder what exactly had changed her. Had he? He must’ve had some part in it, he supposed, but the details were unclear. Though Mythene could read him like an open book, figuring his thoughts with a single glance, he always had trouble figuring out what was going on inside her head.

“...so that’s why I was tryin’ to put her in da pot, see?” Nimboya finished, drawing Zami back from his thoughts.

“Huh?” He blinked a few times, “Oh, uh...”

Mythene perked an eyebrow, and Nimboya grumpily put his hands on his hips.

“Hey, mon! Were ya even listenin’ to m----”

“Dat’s great, mon,” Zami nodded, shifting his gaze away from Mythene to the trees, “So, back before, ya were tellin’ me where Aka ran off to?”

Nimboya made a sour face at being cut off, before reluctantly sighing.

“Yeah, like I said, mon. She ran off, few months back. I’d say towards da Kal’ai Ruins, maybe?”

“Kal’ai…” Zami paused, thinking about the location, “Ah, dat ain’t far from here! Just a bit to da northeast, yeah?

Nimboya nodded.

“Oh, ya gonna go find ya raptor? If ya do, be careful of da Murkgill, mon. Dey can be pretty nasty little buggers.”

Now Zami nodded, before going over to Mythene and scooping her up over his shoulder as before.

“Gotta get my raptor, den I’ll deal wit da elf,” He said, as a half-baked excuse.

“Could always put it in da pot,” Nimboya said in singsong, and Zami rolled his eye.

Leaving Grom’gol was a lot easier than getting in. The orcs stationed on guard at the gate gave him a few funny looks---or maybe they were more towards Mythene---but nobody said anything. As soon as they were out of sight of the Base Camp, Zami tossed Mythene down onto the ground and she landed rather inelegantly. He gave her an apologetic shrug as he knelt down and undid her bindings, returning the rope to his pack.

“What in the world is that troll’s obsession with boiling me alive?” Mythene grumbled, rubbing her sore wrists.

“Ah, Nimboya just be like dat. Don’t ya worry bout it none.”

Mythene perked an eyebrow at Zami, giving him a quizzical expression, before standing up.

“Your grammar has gotten worse,” She pointed out, seeing he didn’t catch the source of her confusion, “It seems that you speak less eloquently in the presence of your kin.”

“Huh?” Zami furrowed his brow before quickly adding, “No I don’t.”

Although he said that, he couldn’t help but wonder if she was right. Maybe. His doubt must’ve been audible in his voice, or visible on his face, and Mythene looked at him flatly.

“I’ve observed as few of your interactions now. Both with your brother, and just now. It’s quite interesting,” She said as she set a hand upon her chin, “It’s as if you’re subconsciously hiding your intelligence.”

“No I ain’t!” Zami huffed, glancing aside.

Was he?

“Hm, what is that human saying? Thou doth protest too much? Something like that.”

“I don’t speak good common,” Zami grumbled.

“...That was the translated version, thero’shan.”

Zami just grunted and began to walk, content to end that conversation. He really didn’t like what he was beginning to think she was implying. Mythene followed him quietly, no doubt knowing she’d pushed a button. Even if she didn’t understand which, or why.

Ever since he was young, Zami had always hated remembering how different he was. He was the only one of his siblings with red hair. He was the only of his brothers not a hunter. Sometimes he felt like he was the only boy in the whole of Sen’jin Village stuck doing women’s work with the old ladies. And a whole host of other reasons he always felt strange among his own people. And what Mythene had said only reminded him of those old feelings of being an outsider. The feelings that got him started on the dark path of becoming a rogue, and an assassin, and killing---

“Zami?” Mythene spoke up, drawing him from his thoughts, “Where are we going?”

“Huh? Oh, to the old ruins of Kal’ai.”

“That troll before mentioned something about Murkgill. That doesn’t sound like another troll clan.”

“Tribe,” Zami corrected, “And dey ain’t trolls.”

“Then…?”

“Murlocs.”


	73. Berserker, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm planning on doing a spinoff prequel based around the time when Zami was working with the Cartels. However, I want it to be from the POV of a different character. Please comment if you'd prefer if the prequel was about Syrise or Jazax!

Zami crouched in the thick green bushes, looking across to the flooded ancient ruins. Beside him, Mythene stood openly upon the path with her arms crossed. She shot Zami a bored look of disinterest, tapping her lavender fingers against her forearms impatiently.

“Honestly,” She sighed, “You look ridiculous right now. Must you be so cloak and dagger?”

“Oh, so sorry I don’t wanna get killed by murlocs,” Zami whispered back.

“Thero’shan,” Mythene sighed again, throwing her arms up into an emphatic shrug, “I don’t even see any murlocs here.”

“Yet,” Zami added, before turning to look towards the Kal’ai Ruins again, “Prolly hidin’ in da water…”

The ancient troll ruins were weathered and beaten down, likely from the frequent rain of the jungle. A small pond formed in the center of the ruins, probably also formed due to the rain. The ruins were almost beyond recognition, and they probably didn’t have anything left to tell about his ancient ancestors. Even so, it had always annoyed him how the murlocs had taken over. Kal’ai was a troll ruin. It should belong to trolls. At least the Skullsplitter and Bloodscalp, as troublesome as they were, did have the sense to hunker down on a few of the ancient ruins of their people. And even though they were different tribes, trolls were better than murlocs at the end of the day.

“Thero’shan?” Mythene perked an eyebrow down at him, “Why do you look like someone just spit in your bean soup?”

“Huh?” Zami blinked a few times, drawn from his thoughts, “Oh, dat. Just thinkin’ bout dese ruins…”

“Well, don’t think too hard. We wouldn’t want you to injure yourself.”

Zami went to give a snide response when he heard a familiar hissing. Quickly, he looked ahead and saw the source. There she was, with her ankle chained to a stake in the ground. She looked like she’d been injured, given the many scars across her teal hide.

“Aka!” Zami quickly stood up, going to hurry to his raptor.

But before he could go too far, Mythene grabbed his arm and held him back. Zami quickly looked back at her and scowled.

“Lemme go!” He hissed, “Dat’s my raptor!”

“Wait,” Mythene said in a hushed voice, pointing ahead, “Look.”

Zami spun around forward again, towards Aka, and saw a couple of the purple murlocs emerge from the water. Three of them to be exact, with a pale white one following a short ways behind. Two of the purple murlocs held spears at another, poking and leading it. A prisoner? Zami perked an eyebrow, wondering if murloc even had a concept of law.

The murlocs with spears led the prisoner over towards Aka, who snarled in warning at their approach. Then the white murloc gargled something and the prisoner was pushed down before the raptor, before the spear-toting murlocs backed away.

Beside him, Mythene gasped in surprise.

“Wait, are they going to---”

“Yeah, I think so,” Zami nodded.

“How barbaric,” Mythene cringed.

“Ah, well, at least dey been feedin’ her,” Zami shrugged, earning a pensive scowl from Mythene.

Zami merely shrugged again, looking back to the scene before them.

Aka dipped her head down, sniffing at the quivering prisoner in disinterest. After a moment, she rose her head and looked away, clearly indicating she wasn’t interested. Of course she wasn’t, Zami thought. Raptors were hunters. She didn’t want to just be handed her prey so easily. She’d want something more difficult.

Of course, that didn’t make the murlocs very happy. One of the ones with the spears gurgled, shaking his spear threateningly at Aka. In response, she snarled. The murloc poked at Aka’s leathered skin with the spearhead, earning an angry screech. As retaliation, Aka snapped her head over, grasping the spear in her teeth, and yanking it. She pulled the murloc holding it closer to her as a result, and then proceeded to clamp her powerful jaws around it.

As she chewed on the one murloc, the other jabbed at her with its spear and pierced it into her side. She angrily spit the ground up murloc at it, knocking both over. The prisoner, meanwhile, tried to creep away from the scene. Aka wasn’t having it, however, and snatched it up into her mouth, ripping it apart ferociously.

Zami couldn’t help but feel a faint smile of pride work its way to his lips. But his smile disappeared instantly when the white murloc suddenly cast a bolt of lightning at Aka. She yelped in pain, releasing whatever was left of the prisoner’s corpse, and recoiled away from them. And then his pride quickly turned to rage.

But it wasn’t just any rage. The sound of the drumming in his ears made that very clear. This was that special kind of rage, wasn’t it? He’d only felt like this a few times before, but there was nothing else like it. It was the kind of rage that made his mind get foggy and his eyes see everything in blood red. It made his body always move much faster than his thoughts could keep up with.

“Zami?” Mythene asked warily from beside him, but her voice sounded far away.

No, it actually was far away.

Before his mind could understand what was happening, he was standing over a pile of murloc corpses. His nose wrinkled at the acrid smell of blood, and he brought a hand up to cover his nose but found his hands were caked in bloody gore. He looked down, seeing his dagger still set in the holster at his hip. Wait, did that mean he’d done this with his bare hands?

As Zami was still reeling from that thought, he heard a loud snort in his ear and the hot scent of rotting meat washed over his face. Looking up, he stared directly at Aka’s nose. Again, she snorted at him, as if trying to confirm his identity. He supposed his appearance had changed quite a bit in the past few months. Hastily wiping a hand clean on his leather pants, he brought it up and began to stroke the raptor’s nose with his thumb.

“Hey dere, girl,” He said softly, “Miss me?”

Aka growled softly, pushing her nose into his hand, and Zami felt himself breathe a little bit easier. Wiping his other hand clean against his pant leg, he then brought it up to Aka’s side. His hand trailed over the scars across her skin, and he frowned.

“I’m sorry, girl,” Zami sighed, leaning his forehead against hers, “Didn’t mean to leave for so long. Things happened, y’know? Dere’s so much to tell you, I dunno where to even begin.”

“Th-Thero’shan?”

The sound of Mythene’s trembling voice caused Aka’s head to shoot up. Zami looked over, seeing Mythene standing there wringing her hands anxiously. Aka hissed and lurched forward, but Zami grabbed onto her neck to pull her back before she could charge.

“Easy, easy, girl,” He reassured her, stroking her nose, “Stay. Mi’ten’s a friend.”

Aka’s eyes remained fixated on Mythene, but she remained still as Zami had commanded.

“...Zami…” Mythene said hesitantly, taking a step back.

“Oh, what’cha worried about?” Zami perked an eyebrow, “Didn’t you say cats are worse?”

Zami smirked and waited for Mythene to say something snarky, but she didn’t. She just looked at him warily. She seemed nervous.

No, wait. Not nervous... 

Afraid.

“Mi’ten?” Zami furrowed his brow, cocking his head to the side. 

He glanced quickly at Aka. Was Mythene afraid of her? Frowning, he slowly released the raptor. He was confident she wouldn’t move, and she didn’t. He looked back at Mythene, but she still looked terrified.

“Wait, you really dat afraid of her?” Zami chuckled, patting Aka’s side, “Guess dat means I win for da more dangerous growing up, yeah?”

Again, Mythene didn’t respond.

“It’s fine, Aka always listens to me,” Zami said reassuringly, “Look, I’ll show you. C’mere.”

Mythene didn’t budge, and she didn’t say anything. Rolling an eye, he moved towards her.

“Oh, would you just come over h...huh?”

Mythene took a nervous step back, and Zami stopped short in his path.

Wait.

It wasn’t the raptor that she was afraid of...was it?


	74. Berserker, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Mythene's POV! :D

Mythene winced as she watched the albino murloc cast sparks of lightning from its webbed hands onto the raptor. It was as she’d expected. That must’ve some kind of spellcaster among the murloc, one intelligent enough for magical capabilities.

As the raptor recoiled, beside her Zami snorted angrily. Mythene quickly looked to him, and as usual his expression was emoted clearly upon his face. Brow low, jaw clenched, lips sneering. He was angry. Very angry. Understandable, given that his raptor was hurt. 

But there was something in his eyes that seemed...different. As though, in a flash, the Zami she knew was gone. And he’d been replaced by some other troll.

And that made him dangerous.

“Zami?” She asked uncertainly.

She reached out to touch his shoulder, but he stormed ahead out of the bushes before she could do anything. Had he always been so quick?

Mythene drew her weapon, expecting Zami to do the same, but he didn’t. Instead, he rushed to the albino murloc’s side, smashing his bare fists into it. The murloc was able to cry out, giving some kind of warning surely, before it quickly fell limp and silent. Mythene froze in place, watching with wide eyes as Zami beat the albino murloc’s corpse in a gory paste.

She didn’t have time to fully process the carnage, because she noticed more movement by the pond. Several murlocs were rushing from the water’s edge, right towards Zami. She went to call out to him, to warn him, but he rose to his feet before she could even speak. 

His movements were quick and brutal. With his fists alone, he pummeled the oncoming wave of murlocs with an almost unbelievable haste. And his attacks weren’t merely fierce, but also bloody. They had an almost unhinged, feral nature. Like he was holding nothing back.

And as much as she wanted to run to his side and aid him in the battle, Mythene found her boots planted in place. She couldn’t move.

When she was younger, her father had liked to regale Mythene and her siblings with scary tales of the monstrous troll berserkers. They were massive lumbering trolls whose strength was matched only by their bloodmadness. They were hungry for war and fought with a wild, reckless abandon only paralleled by the greenskins. This was the primal nature of all trolls, her father had said. A mad desire to kill, to destroy.

Such things were bedtime stories, she had believed. Trolls were savage, true. Well...maybe. Such was an assessment she had begun to doubt, in truth. Perhaps they were uncouth, and certainly a bit unsavory, but to call them uncivilized was starting to really seem like a stretch.

Mythene hadn’t thought of her father's bedtime stories in nigh two centuries. And yet in this moment, she could think of nothing else.

It felt like an eternity before she could still the erratic beating of her heart enough to breathe again. Her gaze fixated on the murloc bodies which littered the ground. Some of them were torn asunder, as Zami had apparently torn them quite literally limb from limb. Mythene stole a glance at him, as he casually wiped his hands on his pants.

...Did he even know better, after all?

No no, what was she thinking? Zami wasn’t like those trolls from the bedtime stories. He was intelligent, not mad with bloodlust. He was different. Yet the corpses made it rather hard to remember why. Those trolls who attacked them looked no different, beyond their hair color. They even spoke the same language. Were they different at all?

No, of course they were. Of course they were. Zami was a druid. Zami was her student. Yes, student. Her thero’shan. With a shaky voice, Mythene called out to him as such.

“Th-Thero’shan?”

Both he and the raptor looked up towards her. The raptor at once hissed and began to charge her, but Zami held it back. That was a good sign, right? He wasn’t mad with bloodlust. Her eyes flickered to the blood stained on his pants anyway.

“Easy, easy, girl,” Zami cooed to the raptor, petting it as if it were a mere household pet, “Stay. Mi’ten’s a friend.”

Friend? Maybe he really was mad. But she supposed it was enough to know that meant he wouldn’t attack.

...So why was she still afraid?

“...Zami…” She muttered, eyes locked on his bloodstained pant legs.

She instinctively took a step away from him. In response, Zami smirked.

“Oh, what’cha worried about? Didn’t you say cats are worse?”

A beat passed, and her gaze cycled back and forth between his bloody pants and the torn apart corpses on the ground.

“Mi’ten?” Zami blinked at her, removing his hands from the raptor.

Thankfully, it didn’t charge. Of course it didn’t, he told it not to. He didn’t want to hurt her. This was Zami, after all. Zami was Zami. It was fine. So why didn’t it feel fine?

“Wait,” He chuckled after a moment, “Are you really dat afraid of her?”

He patted the raptor.

“Guess dat means I win for da more dangerous growing up, yeah?”

Mythene knew she should’ve said something. But her mind could only conjure one single word. It embodied everything. Both the situation, and the company.

Savage.

“It’s fine,” Zami shrugged a little, “Aka always listens to me. I’ll show you. C’mere.”

He was clearly trying to reassure her. About the raptor, anyway. But the raptor wasn’t the problem.

Zami rolled his one uncovered eye and began to approach her. Acting solely on instinct, she backed away to maintain the distance.

“Oh, would you just come over h...huh?”

Zami stopped his approach, and she stopped her retreat. He looked at her for a moment, before the realization became evident.

“Mi’ten?” He called to her quietly, “What’s wrong?”

She furrowed her brow, glancing aside. How did he not know? That wasn’t reassuring. It was the opposite, in fact. Did that mean he lost control of himself? Just like the stories...

Zami hesitated for a moment before holding his hands up.

“I dunno what’s goin’ on, but y’know I ain’t gonna do nothin’ to you, Mi’ten,” He said quietly, almost sounding hurt he had to reassure her of such.

Mythene bit her lip.

“...How can you be certain?”

“Huh?” Zami furrowed his brow in confusion, “I don’t...what’cha mean?”

“Look what you did…” Mythene looked to the murloc corpses, and Zami followed her gaze.

“Oh...dat.”

Zami sighed, rubbing his neck.

“Dat don’t happen often, honest. I ain’t ever liked berserking…”

Mythene frowned, crossing her arms over her chest protectively.

“Even if it doesn’t happen often, it could happen again, couldn’t it?”

Mythene didn’t like how panicked and accusatory she sounded. She wished she didn’t sound afraid. She wished even more that she didn’t feel it.

“I mean, yeah? Guess so?” Zami shrugged, “So what? It ain’t a big deal. It just makes me get---”

“Savage,” Mythene glanced aside.

Zami blinked at her for a moment, almost looking like he wondered if he misheard.

“...What?”

There was no taking it back now, she supposed. She’d have to double down.

“It makes you become savage,” She muttered, ignoring the little voice in her head that said this wasn’t even what she was trying to say, “Like a normal troll.”

Zami’s shoulders slumped a bit, and now it was he who took a step back.

“You gotta be jokin’ wit me…” He said tiredly, “Da Loa gotta be laughin’ at me.”

Zami moved back to the raptor’s side, stroking its head. He sighed deeply, his hurt expression hardening.

“Guess trolls be as stupid as you say, Mi’ten,” He grumbled, looking back at her, “All dis time, you still just been lookin’ down at me. Still seein’ me as just a dumb savage.”

Mythene furrowed her brow and went to protest, but Zami continued.

“Well, I guess you been right all along then,” He glanced aside, “Stupid me.”


	75. Challenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to throw hands!

“Wait, stop!” Mythene called from behind him, but Zami had no intention of stopping.

In fact, he only walked faster. In response, he heard Mythene sigh in frustration.

“Thero’shan, would you slow down?”

“Sorry,” He snorted quickly, “But I don’t speak no elf!”

“Darnassian,” Mythene couldn’t help correcting, before adding, “And yes you do.”

“Nope!” Zami glanced back over his shoulder with his one good eye, “Only some kinda traitor to da Horde would bother wit speakin’ dat weak tongue!”

“Well then,” Mythene shrugged, “I guess that makes you a traitor.”

Zami stopped short, causing Aka to bump into his back, and he spun around angrily to face Mythene. 

She stopped as well, looking at him with an annoyed expression and a perked eyebrow. As though she had the right to be the angry one in this instance!

“I ain’t no traitor!” Zami hissed, standing up straight, “I would die for da Horde.”

“How impressive,” Mythene said flatly, putting her hands on her hips, “And I’m certain you will one day, with an attitude like that.”

Zami narrowed his eyes, leaning forward a bit so their eyes were level with one another. Mythene flinched backwards, but ultimately didn’t move.

“Dat s’posta be a threat?” He asked slowly, his voice low.

Mythene looked back at him tiredly, clearly growing increasingly annoyed.

“It wasn’t but might become one if you don’t get that overly-large nose out of my face.”

Her tone was light, and it was clearly meant to be a playful gibe. But Zami was in no mood to play right now.

“Ya seen what I can do,” He said threateningly, “You don’t really think you got a chance against me?”

Now, if there was one thing to be said about Mythene, it was that she was a prideful little elf. And, like all elves, that came with a superiority complex. Anything that questioned that superior narrative was obviously not something she would allow.

“Oho,” Mythene scrunched up her nose, “It would be only too easy.”

“Oh yeah?” Zami growled, shoving her back, “Prove it.”

Mythene stumbled backwards, narrowing her blazing white eyes angrily. At the jolt, Zeni stuck his flowerhead out of her vest pocket, looking between the two of them curiously before falling to the ground below. It gave a confused hiss, which was ultimately ignored by the both of them. Only Aka seemed to pay the lasher any mind, sniffing at it curiously.

“You don’t want to fight me, thero’shan,” Mythene said in warning, to which Zami just snorted.

“What, ya afraid?” He asked scathingly, “Mi’ten scared of da big bad troll?”

In response, Mythene just growled and extended a hand towards him. Zami only just had enough time to leap back before a beam of arcane light burst down from the sky. Bringing a hand to his hip, he drew his dagger and dove forward before Mythene could cast again.

“Ugh, get off!” Mythene hissed as Zami tackled her to the ground.

She forcefully brought her knee up into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him, and distracting him long enough for her to shimmy back. Before she could get to her feet, however, he grabbed her ankle and jammed his blade down hard. It just missed her calf, trapping her in place by pinning down her pant leg.

She snarled a curse word in Darnassian, which Zami pretended not to understand, and leaned down to pull the knife free. As she leaned forward, Zami moved up, putting his hand on her throat and pinning her back to the ground. He held her in place, but found himself hesitating, unable to squeeze as tightly as he wanted to. The truth was, he realized, that he didn’t actually want to hurt her.

“Ash karath!” Mythene spat through gritted teeth, taking her hand and putting it over his.

Her egging him on only made him hesitate further, when suddenly he heard a rumbling noise from the ground below them. Looking down, he saw that Mythene’s other hand was dug into the soil. Just as he realized what was happening, several vines sprung up from the soil, wrapping about his limbs. He was pulled away from Mythene, and held in place by the vines as she got to her feet.

Which, of course, only served to make Zami angrier. Magical or not, vines were vines. Enough concentrated effort into pulling against them, and they began to snap. Mythene took a moment to catch her breath before extending her hand again. This time, he couldn’t dodge. 

Blue arcane light enveloped him, singeing his skin. Zami snarled at the pain, which quickly began to subside as his regeneration began. Meanwhile, he kept snapping the vines. Just as he managed to get a hand free, he heard Mythene utter in Darnassian.

“Anu’dorini telah, thero’shan,” She said before extending a hand again.

Zami winced in preparation for the anticipated strike, but instead there was a sudden sharp screech. He looked up just in time to see Aka charge at Mythene, knocking her prone onto her back. The raptor began to slash with its talons, deeply cutting Mythene’s forearms as she blocked the attack with her arms.

Zami hesitated again, as Aka roared furiously at her master’s attack. Although he had decided he didn’t really want to hurt Mythene, nobody told Aka that, and so she was fighting for blood. Zami went to call out to her, tell her to stop, when suddenly a different set of thorny vines appeared. They wrapped around Aka’s tail and pulled hard, knocking the raptor onto her face. Seeing the opportunity there, she tried snapping her sharp fangs at Mythene, who scurried backwards to safety.

Zami looked to the source of the thorny vines, seeing Zeni pulling with all of its might. The lasher was still shrunken down, so it was a considerable feat that it managed to pull Aka down. Not only that, but its vines extended around her whole body and muzzled her jaw closed. In response to the thorns biting into her skin, Aka let out a muffled shriek of pain.

And that did it. That was enough to make Zami hear the drums once more.


	76. Brutal Honesty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, syke!

As his vision began to turn red, Zami pulled on the vines entrapping him once more and they each snapped. Mythene looked over to Zami, hands covering her bleeding forearms, and her expression tensed. Then suddenly her expression flattened and she calmly shut her eyes, just accepting what she most assuredly thought was her death.

Zami briefly shot her a quizzical glance, before shaking his head. He had to focus. Quickly, he moved over to Zeni and Aka. He crouched down in front of the writhing raptor, setting his hand on her nose.

“Easy, girl! Easy!” He said as he began to stroke her nose with his thumb, “Zeni, let go.”

The lasher hissed in confusion for a moment, before its thorny vines rescinded away from Aka. The raptor growled softly, leaning her nose against Zami’s hand as a gesture of solidarity, even as she glared in Zeni’s direction and snorted angrily.

“You okay, girl,” Zami said calmly, trying to reassure her.

After giving her wounds a quick glance, he noticed there was a considerable amount of blood. And that wound she got from the murlocs wasn’t looking too good, either.

“Hold on, girl,” He said as he took off his backpack, “I got somethin’ in here…”

As Zami began to hastily rifle through the bag, he heard Mythene move somewhere behind him. Maybe she was going to make a sneak attack. He didn’t care. He’d regenerate. Aka’s wounds took precedence.

“Ugh, where is dat thing…” He frowned, unable to locate the troll’s blood potion he’d obtained from Mokthardin among his other things.

Cursing under his breath, he tossed the useless backpack aside and turned back to Aka. Thinking about it for a moment, he continued to stroke her nose slowly. There was no other alternative, was there? He supposed not, although he wasn’t too keen on it after what just happened. Oh well. Aka was more important. He’d do it for her.

Shaking his head a little, he flattened his palm against her nose while the other moved to her bloody side. Closing his eye, he focused on the first painful memory that came to mind. It was the feeling of that Skullsplitter’s poisoned dagger digging into his side. His brow furrowed, as his thoughts briefly dipped into what had happened after, but he drew away from it as quickly as he could. That was for another time. For now, he focused on recalling the blade’s pain. Then he took a deep breath, and let the memory of the pain fade away with his breath.

Opening his eye again, he saw Aka looking in confusion at his glowing hands. One by one, her wounds healed until she was good as new. Zami sighed softly, seeing she would be alright. He brought a hand up to his head, starting to feel a little dizzy. Doing so much at once was exhausting. He wasn’t sure how Mythene did this on a regular basis.

Speaking of which...

“You know, when you said we had to find your daughter, this isn’t quite what I was expecting.”

Zami glanced up to her, noting she now stood beside him, before looking away grumpily. In response, Mythene sighed, crouching down beside him. Neither of them said anything for a moment. He felt his heartbeat calm, and he noticed the berserking had already passed. Even so, they both remained silent for a moment longer. It was awkward, but at least he wasn’t so angry anymore.

Slowly, Zami glanced back in her direction. She was still hugging her injured arms, which now trembled lightly and soaked her vest in deep red. Mythene opened her mouth to say something, just as Zami reached over and grabbed her arm. As soon as he touched her, she tried to pull away, but he held a firmer grip. Then he tugged her arm towards him, causing her to roughly fall against his side. Zami ignored her confused and annoyed expression, instead examining her wounds.

The cuts were deep, and the flowing blood was dark. Not good. He glanced up at Aka, unable to be angry at her considering her motivation was to protect him. Even so, he silently cursed the loa for making raptors such effective hunters. Glancing back down to Mythene’s arm, he decided to poke at it to see if she still had any feeling left. In response, she hissed in pain.

“Ouch! Don’t touch it!” She said as she hastily tried to wrench her arm free again, but Zami still held her wrist tightly.

A beat passed

“...I can heal it,” He said quietly, glancing back at her.

Her expression was conflicted, pained yet prideful. Ultimately, her pride won out, and she looked away.

“It’s fine,” She mumbled coldly, “I don’t need your help.”

“It ain’t fine,” Zami said, starting to feel a little heated, “What, you gonna heal ya self? Like dis?”

To drive his point home, he poked her injury again and she grimaced.

“Yes! I-I’ll do it myself. I’m a v-very talented healer,” She sniffed, trying to seem unfazed but her voice trembled slightly.

Zami just scoffed, pulling her arm into his lap. The rest of her body was pulled along like a ragdoll, slamming into his side again. She winced in pain as he firmly planted his palm over her injury, and Zami closed his eyes to focus. Thinking about the same memory, he let the recalled pain leave his body with his breath. And when he opened his eyes, the injury was gone.

And the headache was even worse. He ignored it.

“Now gimme da other,” He said as he released her healed arm.

She pulled it back close to herself quickly, like she’d just touched a flame. Glancing aside again, she hesitated. Zami growled in annoyance, holding out his hand expectantly. She glanced back and then, with the sigh of someone being inconvenienced, offered her wounded arm to him. Just as before, Zami tugged it closer and set it in his lap, earning another clumsy crash into his side. Clumsy. The bloodloss must’ve been getting to her, he thought. He’d have to move fast.

As he closed his eye and once more began to think about that poisoned dagger, he heard Mythene sigh beside him. He furrowed his brow, trying to tacitly signal for her to let him focus. Apparently, she didn’t get the message because she started to speak.

“I’m sorry,” She said in a small voice, almost too quiet to hear.

This gave Zami pause, and he opened his eye to look at her. At first, he was utterly unimpressed. She’d given him plenty of empty apologies before. But once he looked at her face, he became uncertain. She seemed genuinely apologetic, even if apologizing did seem painful to her. Or, maybe, it was just because of her injury. Which he needed to focus on healing. Closing his eye again, he started to focus but then she spoke again.

“I didn’t mean it,” She sighed, “You’re not a….you know.”

Zami furrowed his brow, once more trying to focus.

“You’re not a savage,” She clarified, as though he needed it to be clarified.

“Uh huh,” He grunted, scowling even more in an attempt to make her shut up.

Now was not the time to chit chat. Seeing she had fallen silent, he decided to try once more. But it never failed.

“I’ve...never been good at saying what I mean,” Mythene admitted, “Expression is not among my many talents, unfortunately. As a child, I was taught to keep my emotions hidden. My father found it inconvenient for a druid to---”

“Mi’ten!” Zami huffed, “Do ya wanna bleed out?”

“Of course n---”

“Den would ya shut up already?”

Mythene blinked at him in surprise, before glancing aside with a hurt expression.

“Sorry…” She mumbled, and Zami gave a guilty sigh.

“Yeah, me too,” He mumbled back, looking down at her arm, “But you gotta lemme focus, woman, or ya gonna be da one meetin’ Bwonsamdi---”

“Who?”

“---and I dunno if I got enough to work wit to make two deals, okay? So just shut up for a little bit, yeah?”

Mythene looked at him for a moment before silently nodding. With a short sigh, he closed his eye one final time to focus on the painful memory. This time, no interruptions. After exhaling slowly, he opened his eye and looked down to his lap. Mythene’s arm was good as new, though still covered in blood. He smiled weakly, glad it had worked. Even if his head was pounding at this point.

“Thank you,” Mythene said quietly before adding, “...thero’shan.”

“Yeah, it ain’t nothing,” He shrugged a little, thinking a moment before adding, “...uh, shan’do.”

Mythene looked at him in surprise, before an appreciative smile made its way to her lips. Just as she went to say something, there was a crashing in the nearby trees, beyond a nearby shallow overhang. The both of them looked over in surprise, as Aka gave a low growl.

“Oi, you sure this is the right way?” A scratchy male voice asked, and Zami perked an eyebrow, recognizing it instantly.

“Yeah! Totally! I’m a great tracker!” A haughty female voice responded, “I used to be a Farstrider, you know!”

“That voice…” Mythene shot a curious glance at Zami

“Hey, watch where you’re going, you big dumb broad!”

“Excuse me, what in the Sunwell did you just---”

A moment later, two familiar figures came spilling out of the treeline, collapsing on the ground just below the overhang.


	77. Follow The Leader

“What in da name of da Loa are you two doing here?” Zami sighed, crouching down.

“Y’know, it’s actually a funny story!” Jazax grinned as he shimmied out from underneath Syrise, “You see….the truth is, I have no freakin’ idea!”

Zami cocked his head to the side in confusion, shooting a questioning glance at Syrise. In response she just sat up and sighed, blowing her long blonde hair out of her face.

“Syrise?” Zami perked an eyebrow at her, “Dis ya idea, den?”

“Oh, yeah, it is! So what?!” She snapped, crossing her arms defensively across her chest.

Her odd response only made Zami all the more confused.

“So you two been followin’ us, dat it?”

Syrise just shrugged, looking away.

“Since when?”

She merely shrugged again. In response, both Zami and Jazax sighed. Mythene merely looked on in confusion. Zami sent a quizzical look towards Jazax, who got up and brushed off his robe.

“Looks like she knows how to shut her trap after all,” Jazax grumbled, shooting an annoyed glance to Syrise, before approaching Zami.

“What’s goin’ on here, Jaz? Why are da two of y---”

“It was blondie’s idea,” Jazax sighed, “She was going about like she had ants in her pants, saying something or other about freedom and honor.”

“Like an orc?” Zami blinked, earning a flat look from both Jazax and Syrise.

“Err, not exactly. She said---”

“Oh, just move over, tiny,” Syrise said as she shoved Jazax aside, “I guess I really do have to do everything.”

“Hey! I will end you, blondie!” Jazax snarled, “Nobody calls me tiny and gets away wi---”

“Ahem,” Mythene cleared her throat, “Mister...Jazax, was it?”

“Oh, you can call me Mister Boombottle,” Jazax said as he quickly changed gears, shooting her his signature cheesy smile, “And how can I help you, sweetcheeks?”

“The thought occurred to me a short while ago,” Mythene said as she glanced towards Zami, “You’re a priest, are you not?”

Zami perked an eyebrow, unsure what she was trying to tell him.

“You got that right, darling,” Jazax smirked, “I’m the real deal. A Priest of the Li---”

“Then, you must be a spellcaster?” Mythene asked as she subtly gestured towards Zami with her hand, but he still wasn’t sure what she meant by it.

“Heh heh, yeah, I dabble,” Jazax said as he got a smug look on his face, “Why? Have I left you spellbou---”

“I was wondering, then, if perhaps we could compare our methods as healers,” Mythene said as she looked at Zami tiredly, making another gesture with her hand.

Zami was kind of surprised how her rather obvious-seeming gestures were completely unintelligible to him. Seeing as he couldn’t make heads or tails of it, he shrugged and turned back to Syrise. He was greeted by Syrise standing close and shooting him a devious grin, her expression suggesting she also knew something he didn’t.

“...What?” He blinked at her, and her grin only grew.

“Well, well, well!” She snickered, masking her grin behind her hand, “I’m surprised, Z!”

“Huh? Surprised? Wit what? Why?”

Syrise giggled behind her hand, and Zami felt his confusion only grow. The Syrise he knew never giggled. Well, not unless she was about to dismember somebody. Were these his last moments, then?

“Oh, don’t play coy,” Syrise said quietly, swatting her hand against his shoulder, “You like her!”

“Huh?” Zami perked an eyebrow, “Well, yeah? I mean, she be my teacher, and sorta my...friend? Uh, well, it’s actually kinda complicated but---”

“No, no, stupid,” Syrise grinned again, poking his cheek, “I mean you like her.”

“How is dat any different---”

“Sheesh! You need me to spell it out for you, Z?” Syrise sighed, before elbowing his side and adding, “You love her.”

Zami looked at her flatly, cocking his head to the side.

“Sy, we literally just tried to kill each other.”

“Haha! True love!”

“Ugh,” Zami groaned, covering his face with his hand, “Dat’s da stupidest thing I ever heard in my whole stupid life, Syrise.”

“So it’s true love, like I said!” Syrise snickered, earning an eye roll.

“My friend, ya got some real messed up ideas of---”

“Oh, quit denying it already,” Syrise crossed her arms, “Jazzy already told me about the baby.”

“Huh?! What b---”

“I didn’t even know you two could even have a baby! The more you know, I guess, right?”

“What? No! There ain’t even---wait, why are we even talkin’ bout me!” Zami shook his head, “You gonna tell me why you and Jazax are even out here!”

Syrise bit her lip, glancing aside.

“If I said it was just a coincidence, would you buy it?”

Taking Zami’s following silence as his answer, she sighed and crossed her arms closely over her chest.

“Look, Z, how do I put this? It’s like...my whole life, I’ve been doing things for other people. First it was the Ranger-General, and then it was the Baron. I’ve never been free, no matter which side of the law I’m on. I’m tired of it!”

Zami cocked his head to the side, his dreadlocks hitting his cheek.

“Okay, but Sy, what’s dat got to do wit me?”

“Everything!” She sighed, crossing her arms a little tighter, “It’s not fair. We were a team, you know? The three of us. But you and Jaz just...walked away. You both trapped me, so you could be free.”

“Syrise,” Zami frowned, “Ain’t nobody said you gotta stay wit da Cartel…”

“You’re right,” She nodded firmly, “I don’t.”

Zami nodded back.

“I realized it, when you came back. I can be whatever I want to be. I mean, hey, if Jazzy can be a Priest of the Light, then I can do something besides take orders my whole life,” Syrise said quietly, “I don’t care about the gold, and it’s not like killing is my only hobby.”

Zami nodded again, still unsure why this meant she needed to follow him.

“So I thought about it, and I made my decision. I know what I want to be.”

“Oh yeah?” He asked slowly, “And, uh, what’s dat?”

Syrise looked at him and began to grin once more.

“I want to be a druid!”


	78. Self-Consciousness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just found out the real reason why trolls slouch and it made me inspired to write! Woo!

“What?” Mythene furrowed her brow, crossing her arms tightly over her chest, “That’s ridiculous.

“Huh?” Zami cocked his head to the side, “It is?”

“Of course it is!” Mythene waved her arms, nearly hysterical, “It’s impossible!”

Zami frowned, looking over at Syrise. She was sitting next to the campfire, stroking her hand over Aka’s head. He looked back at Mythene, and perked an eyebrow.

“Why?” He asked cautiously, suspiciously.

“Because she’s a…” Mythene trailed off, squirming a bit under Zami’s suspicious gaze, “Ugh, thero’shan don’t look at me like that…”

“Because she’s a blood elf?” He squinted.

Mythene growled in frustration, crossing her arms again.

“Look, you don’t understand,” She hugged herself a bit tighter, “She’s a sin’dorei.”

“So?”

“…It’s complicated, okay?” She sighed, putting a hand on her temple to massage it, “There’s a lot of things you don’t understand.”

A beat passed and she looked up hastily.

“W-Wait, wait! That’s not what I meant,” She blurted quickly, waving her hands defensively, “I’m not saying you’re not intelligent enough to understand! I’m just saying that it’s a rather long and complicated story, involving the histories of our peoples and---”

“Mi’ten,” Zami looked at her flatly, drawing hasty silence.

Another beat passed, and she glanced aside.

“I-It’s a long story, okay?” She said quietly, wringing her hands on the front of her leather vest, “The sin’dorei long ago severed their connection to nature, in favor of….uhm, following an arcane path.”

She paused a moment, glancing over her shoulder, before speaking behind her hand.

“They’re mana addicts, Zami, and---”

“Mi’ten,” Zami said as he took her hand, lowering it, “Syrise don’t even know any magic.”

Mythene furrowed her brow, glancing back again with a bewildered expression.

“Th...That’s impossible. All sin’dorei are---”

“All trolls are savages,” Zami spoke over her, making her go silent again.

He could see her working it out in her head, gradually coming to realize maybe she was jumping to conclusions again. It gave her pause, and Zami smiled a little upon seeing that. It was progress, at least.

“...What are you smiling at?” Mythene snapped suddenly, her tone accusatory.

“Huh?” Zami forced his face to go neutral, “What’cha talking bout, Mi’ten? I ain’t smiling,”

“You were, I saw you, ” She said slowly, now her turn to squint suspiciously, and her hand was suddenly crushing tightly around his, “Something funny to you? Are you laughing at me?”

“N-No, I weren’t,” Zami said as he repressed the urge to start smiling again, amused by her sudden self-consciousness.

“Is that so?” Mythene furrowed her brow, “Well, then you surely have no reason to smile henceforth, correct?”

Zami gave her a stony-faced nod, doing his best not to crack. He clenched his jaw, determined not to lose this battle of wits...or whatever it was supposed to be. Meanwhile, Mythene stared at him in a way that particularly reminded him of his mother tacitly urging him to confess for some childhood mistake. It was like staring down a Scarlet inquisitor. He felt himself begin to sweat and the urge to break into a grin only grew. But just as he was about to give in, the two of them heard someone clear their throat below.

“Holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes, now?” Jazax said flatly as he looked up at the two of them, “Jeez, would you two get a room?”

Mythene hastily pulled her hand back, wiping it on her pant leg, and Zami looked down at Jazax.

“What? Dat ain’t what---”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Jazax waved a little green hand dismissively, “Don’t let me disturb youse, alright? Just take it somewhere private, for my sake, would ya?”

“Or don’t!” Syrise called from the fire.

Mythene huffed and crossed her arms once more.

“We were not---”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jazax waved a hand again as he turned away, “Listen, sweetcheeks. Don’t tell me what freaky stuff you two get up to. I don’t take confessionals. I ain’t that kinda priest.”

Mythene’s brow furrowed as Jazax laughed his way back to the fireside, her cheeks taking a dark purple tint. She crossed her arms a bit tighter, jutting out her chin again, and this time Zami didn’t resist the urge to grin. Her white eyes fell upon his smile and her scowl sank even further.

“And whatever are you smiling about this time, thero’shan?” She asked coldly, to which Zami just snickered.

“You lookin’ like a little kid over dere,” He chuckled, “Y’know, you should actually be real flattered.”

“Oh?” Mythene’s brow knitted in further frustration, “And why is that?”

Zami’s grin grew, his expression surely mirroring Jazax’s signature cheesy smile, and he set a hand against his chest proudly.

“Y’know, I’m actually real handsome among trolls,” He lied through his teeth, “I’m a catch, and you should prolly be honored dem two idiots think ya my mate.”

It wasn’t true at all, of course, but he figured what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

Mythene looked at him flatly, slowly raising a single eyebrow skeptically.

“Is that so?” She said after a moment, her white eyes scanning him up and down, “Well, I seem to recall hearing your brother call you elderly and incapable of ever obtaining said mate.”

“Ohhh,” Syrise piped up from the fire, “She’s got you there, Z!”

“Shut up, Syrise!” Zami called back to her, mentally cursing his brother.

He tried to mask his embarrassment under his annoyance, but the amused look Mythene gave him made it clear that it wasn’t working. She chuckled and it made Zami’s fur prickle with the heat of his own growing self-consciousness. Oh how the tables had turned.

“Well,” She said after a moment, patting a hand on his shoulder sympathetically, “If it serves as any solace, you’re at least certainly more handsome than some kaldorei men I’ve met.”

With that, she gave another sympathetic pat on his shoulder, before joining the others by the fireside. Zami paused for a moment, trying to process why her pity compliment made him flush even more with embarrassment. His mind suddenly recalled that fevered dream, seemingly out of nowhere, and strange ideas of even stranger desires began to swirl in his mind. He entirely stopped that train of thought before it went off the rails, and took him somewhere he didn’t want to go. Blinking once more, he shook away those odd notions as best he could, before going to join the others by the fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally broke 100,000! We did it, boys!


	79. Bad Dream

Zami sat up quickly, drenched in a cold sweat. 

He was laying in the middle of a barren field, a thick grey fog covering the land as far as he could see. He heard voices whispering from both near and far. His shivering body was freezing cold, and he could see his own breath.

“Zami,” A familiar voice suddenly spoke up in Zandali, “What did you do?”

Zami looked up as a figure appeared through the fog, and his eyes widened.

“Z-Zoji?” He gasped, scrambling to stand up, “Wh-What are you doing here? Where are we?”

“Oh, Zami,” Zoji shook his head solemnly, “You’re not really here. Not yet, anyway.”

“Huh?” Zami cocked his head to the side, his dreadlocks hitting his cheek, “What do you mean?”

“Was it worth it, brother?” Zoji asked quietly, the look in his eyes hollow and tired, “Was your deal worth it?”

Zami flinched, and took a step backwards as he nearly lost his balance due to surprise.

“How...How do you know about that?” Zami asked nervously, and Zoji laughed bitterly.

“Why did you do it?” Zoji asked with a frown, ignoring his question entirely.

Zami hesitated, glancing aside. Why? That was simple. He didn’t want to die. That’s why he traded Jumi to take his place. Better him than me, he’d thought. Anything to go back...

“It doesn’t matter,” Zoji said before he could even answer, “In the end, we all serve him regardless.”

“...Zoji, where is this place?” Zami asked again, hoping he wouldn’t be ignored this time.

His brother sighed, moving towards him. He lowered his hand, ripping an arrow out of his stomach, and then another from his shoulder. Then he set his hand behind his back, and pulled forth an ornate sword. An elvish sword. It was drenched in his own blood. He looked at the sword for a moment, before his gaze moved back to Zami.

“Where do you think we are?” He asked quietly, and Zami felt himself pale.

“The Other Side,” Zami gasped, speaking barely above a whisper.

“That’s right,” A new voice interjected from elsewhere in the fog, and Zami didn’t have to look to the source to know it.

“We made a deal,” He said firmly, not looking over as Bwonsamdi floated up beside him leisurely, “I can’t be here yet.”

Bwonsamdi just chuckled darkly, making Zami’s skin crawl.

“I promised you another in my place,” Zami continued, his voice getting increasingly unsteady.

“You did,” Bwonsamdi grinned, “And where is he, hm?”

Zoji looked from Bwonsamdi to Zami, a questioning expression on his face.

“You promised another?” Zoji frowned, “In your place?”

Zami looked at him, trying to find the proper words, but found his mind lacking in what he needed to say to explain himself.

“Who?” Zoji asked slowly.

“The greatest hunter alive,” Bwonsamdi grinned, circling about the two brothers like a vulture, “And his every prey.”

Zoji thought for a moment before giving Zami a knowing glance.

“Jumi,” He frowned again, and Zami nodded.

Zoji sighed and shook his head, in the same way their mother did when she was disappointed. Zami felt himself chafe at the judgment and furrowed his brow.

“I did what I had to,” He said defensively, crossing his arms to both shield himself and conserve body heat.

Zoji was quiet for a moment, looking down at the bloody sword in his hand. Zami followed his gaze and his breath hitched. Zoji’s reflection was shown in the red sheen of the blade, and it was that of a rotted corpse. As he felt his stomach drop, the realization finally hitting him truly, Bwonsamdi’s grin only silently grew beside him.

“...I won’t say…” Zoji began, twirling the sword a little, “...I won’t say you’re better than that, Zami.”

Zami looked back to his brother---the one standing before him---and frowned.

“You’re not,” Zoji said coldly, his matter-of-fact tone only making Zami feel worse, “You’ve always been selfish.”

Zami’s sorrow instantly snapped around to indignation.

“What?” He snapped, narrowing his eyes, “Selfish? I gave up everything when Jumi left, to take care of you all and mother. I---”

“Ran away to join a band of thieves,” Zoji cut him off, still not looking away from the blade.

Zami growled and clenched his fists angrily.

“Least I didn’t run off to join the war,” Zami sneered, his remark finally drawing Zoji’s gaze away from the bloody sword.

“You became a petty thief, killing from the shadows like a coward. I became a soldier of the Horde,” Zoji said slowly, his growing irritation audible, “Unlike you, I chose a path of honor.”

“Honor?” Zami scoffed, shrugging his arms emphatically, “What, did you turn into an orc or something?”

Zoji stepped back, his expression one of aggravation and disappointment mixed together.

“At least I didn’t become our father,” He hissed.

Zami felt himself reach to his hip, to his dagger, on instinct. At that, his brother laughed darkly.

“What’re you gonna do?” Zoji shrugged, “Kill me? You’re a little too late for that, Zami!”

He angrily threw the bloody sword onto the dusty ground between them, the metallic clang echoing out into the fog. It drew a silence between them that quickly felt smothering. As the cold began to creep back in, stamping out the heat of the anger that had been growing within him, Zami dropped his hand away from the dagger. He stared at the sword on the ground for a moment before slowly turning to face Bwonsamdi.

“Why am I here?” He asked tiredly, “If you’re just trying to remind me of our deal, I didn’t forget. I’ll give you Jumi soon. A deal’s a deal.”

“But you’re not even here,” Zoji spoke up, crossing his arms, “This is just a dream.”

Zami furrowed his brow, looking down.

“It’s more like a nightmare,” He sighed, rubbing his eyes, “I hate this. I don’t want to be here...”

“Then wake up,” Zoji said calmly.

Zami furrowed his brow, looking back at his brother.

“I don’t want you to be here either,” He said quietly, earning a sad smile.

“Then just wake up,” Zoji repeated.

Zami frowned but nodded, closing his eyes. A moment later, he opened his eyes and sat up quickly, drenched in a cold sweat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To clarify, in case it's confusing: this chapter really is just a dream, unlike when Zami dreamed of Gonk. This is not the real Bwonsamdi. Because he's been shoving down thinking about everything---including his death---for so long, his brain is trying to sort out his feelings about everything in his dreams.


	80. Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta love some male bonding! :)

Zami leaned forward to set his elbow on his knee, using his arm to prop up his chin. A wry smile made its way to his lips as he watched the familiar scene before him.

“Try and connect with the spiritual essence of the nature around you,” Mythene said calmly, earning Zami a quizzical look from Syrise.

“What does that even mean?” She mouthed to him, earning an amused shrug.

Honestly, he still had no idea.

“Eyes forward,” Mythene snapped her fingers in front of Syrise’s face, bringing her gaze back, “You need to focus, think about the nature surrounding you.”

“Right, right,” Syrise nodded, looking around briefly.

“Eyes forward,” Mythene repeated, “Don’t focus with your eyes. Feel it with your whole body.”

Zami grinned upon seeing Syrise’s brow furrow in even further confusion. He remembered being exactly where she was, and not even so long ago. As he stifled a chuckle, Jazax came over and promptly sat down in the grass beside him. He looked towards Jazax, a joke about Syrise’s form already on his lips, but paused upon seeing the goblin’s dark expression.

“...Hey, mon,” Zami said slowly, his brow creasing with concern.

“Hey,” Jazax replied curtly.

He didn’t sound angry at least, but he was definitely planning to keep whatever was bothering him close to the vest. It was obvious enough, probably even for someone who hadn’t known Jazax for years like he had. Anybody who knew Jazax for even a short time could tell he was a loudmouth, and an overly emotional loudmouth at that. But it took actually knowing the guy to understand the words he said were never as important as the words he didn’t.

Zami shifted his gaze back towards the two elves, who were now sparring, but he occasionally glanced over at Jazax out of the corner of his eye. He knew that was all he had to do. He’d always thought people never gave the goblin enough credit. He knew that out of the three of them in their group, Jazax had always been the smartest by a longshot. He was clever, and he never missed a thing. It was why he’d lasted so long while so many others hadn’t.

Soon enough, Jazax let out a long-drawn sigh, and Zami knew that was the signal he was waiting for.

“What’s wrong?” Zami asked quietly, no longer breaking his gaze from the elves.

Jazax was quiet for a moment, matching Zami’s gaze straight ahead. Then he sighed once more.

“This sucks,” Jazax confessed flatly.

Zami perked an eyebrow, forgetting to keep up the indifferent act, and turned his head to look at Jazax questioningly.

“Need context, eh?” Jazax said before nodding towards the elven women, “This.”

“....Bein’ in da jungle?” Zami offered, and Jazax shook his head.

“Not that. Well, I mean, sorta. Not really, though.”

Zami blinked at him, trying in vain to decipher the meaning, before his expression fell flat.

“Look, mon, you just gotta say what’cha mean,” Zami shrugged, “Cause I ain’t followin’ so far.”

Jazax sighed again, flopping back into the grass with a huff.

“Y’know, you never asked me?” Jazax glanced over at Zami without sitting up.

Zami cocked his head to the side.

“Asked what?”

Jazax frowned, looking up at the blue midmorning sky.

“Why I’m here...”

“Ah,” Zami nodded, realizing that was true.

He’d never asked.

“Well,” He turned to look ahead again, “Why ya here?”

His eye fixated on Mythene as she guided Syrise through the motions of casting. On that already, huh? She must’ve been a fast learner. Zami was almost jealous. Jazax then sat up, once again matching Zami’s forward gaze. But a little to the left.

“Her,” He said quietly, barely above a whisper.

Zami flinched for a moment, assuming he meant Mythene. But that made no sense, of course. He glanced over at Jazax, following his gaze exactly to confirm his suspicions. No, he didn’t mean Mythene at all.

“Syrise, huh?” Zami perked an eyebrow, “What, still owe her money or something?”

Jazax paused to scowl up at Zami. It took Zami considerable effort not to crack a grin, but he supposed his prior practice with Mythene came in handy. Jazax squinted but soon turned to look forward again, clearly too uncomfortable to hold Zami’s gaze.

“Yeah,” He mumbled, “Or something.”

Zami glanced back over towards Syrise briefly.

“So, she got any idea?”

“Jeez, I sure hope not,” Jazax snorted, “She’d kill me in my sleep or something.”

“Yeah, or something,” Zami parroted, earning another scowl from the goblin.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

The two of them sat in silence, watching Mythene train Syrise for a few minutes more, before Jazax looked to Zami.

“That’s why I could tell, y’know,” Jazax said, his expression set somewhere between sadness and smugness.

“Tell what?”

“About you and Miss Moonshadow there.”

“Huh?” Zami perked an eyebrow.

“Ah c’mon,” Jazax rolled his eyes, “Not still gonna deny it, are you?”

“Oh, by da Loa, not dis again…”

Zami sighed, pressing his chin sharply into his knuckles as he turned to look forward again. He didn’t want to even think about what Jazax might’ve been implying. He had way too much else on his mind, especially with that dream from earlier still looming at the back of his thoughts. Yet despite himself, he found his gaze drifting back towards only Mythene. The sunlight was glistening off of her silver hair in that warm way he always found so pretty.

“...I’m tellin’ ya, you got it bad, buddy. Trust me. I know that look.”

Zami jumped, broken from his trance so abruptly, and shot an annoyed glance at Jazax.

“Ain’t no look,” He sniffed, “Dis is just my face.”

“Uh huh, and I’m the Queen of Stormwind,” Jazax snarked back, “Look, I’m just saying what I’m seeing, alright? And what I’m seeing that you’re in love with Myth---”

“I ain’t,” Zami interrupted, a bit more forcefully than he intended, “And I’m gettin’ real sick of you and Syrise sayin’ I am. Cause I ain’t. I just ain’t, okay?”

“...Uh huh,” Jazax nodded, “Real convincing, buddy.”

Zami huffed, setting his hand over his face. Maybe it was the lack of a good night’s sleep, or his own discomfort at the notion that Jazax could be right, or maybe it was just because of everything that had gone wrong lately. Whatever the cause, it was nearing a breaking point.

“By da Loa, Jazax,” Zami sighed, “At dis point, I’m thinkin’ I would prefer it if you just stab me again.”

Jazax shrugged, shooting Zami a mischievous grin.

“Hey, well, that can be arranged too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yet you never find out exactly what sucks, haha!


	81. Peers

“Bah, the essence of nature,” Syrise huffed, crossing her arms grumpily and slouching forward, “What even is that, huh?”

Zami sighed shortly, hoping if he didn’t give her a direct response, she’d get the hint to be quiet. No such luck, of course. But then, when was he ever lucky?

“Did she do this when you first started out too?” Syrise asked, looking over at Zami, “She at least explained it for you, right? That essence of nature thi---”

“Syrise,” Zami interrupted her, his irritation audible despite his hushed tone, “Shut up.”

“Well,” Syrise sniffed, turning up her nose and looking away, “No need to bite my head off, Z.”

Zami clenched his jaw, not wanting to give another verbal response, and tried to focus on the task at hand. It was dark in this part of the jungle, where the canopy of trees was thick and blocked a good deal of the late-afternoon sunlight. It needed to be dark here, though. The little creatures, like rabbits and squirrels, were drawn to the dark for a reprieve from the humid jungle heat. That’s why it was the best hunting ground in Northern Stranglethorn.

“...Well, I’m bored,” Syrise sighed, unfolding her arms to set her hands atop her crossed legs, “Can we go back now?”

Zami shot her a flat look.

“Y’know, dey can hear a lot better dan us,” He whispered, furrowing his brow, “You gonna make all da tigers know we here.”

Syrise sighed again and grumpily recrossed her arms. Zami was just thankful she didn’t speak. Seeing as she was finally quieting down, he looked back out across the hunting grounds before them. It was a clear patch surrounded on most sides by a dense thicket, of which the two of them were currently crouched down in, for camouflage. Zami knew it wouldn’t do much for their scent, but so long as they stayed downwind, it would probably be fine. Tigers didn’t have the best sense of smell, anyway. It was the panthers one needed to worry about when it came to that. But fortunately for them, the two big cats gave each other a pretty wide berth.

“Zami,” Syrise suddenly whined, breaking him from his focus, “I don’t even see any tigers here. Can we just go?”

“Syrise,” Zami glanced over at her, still speaking in a hushed tone, “Y’know tigers are ambush predators right? Dey sneak up on prey. Noisy prey who be too busy talkin’ to hear da approach.”

“Why do you even need to be out here if you already know so much about them?” Syrise shrugged.

Zami looked back to the clearing, to make sure his prior remark wasn’t going to end up prophetic, before looking back at Syrise.

“It ain’t about dat. I ain’t gotta learn just how dey hunt. More how dey be.”

“How they be---err, are?”

“Yeah, like how dey move,” Zami nodded, “Gotta get into da tiger’s mind, know how dey think.”

“Oh, like, by observing how they naturally act?”

Zami nodded again, but then paused.

“...Well,” He rubbed his chin, “I mean, I think dat’s it…”

Syrise blinked at him several times, eyebrows raising. Zami shrugged back, starting to feel a little bit defensive.

“I dunno really, okay?” He grumbled, “Zalu was s’posta teach me dis.”

“So, you don’t even actually know what you’re looking for?” Syrise frowned, “You’re just, what, gonna sit here and stare until you turn into one?”

Zami frowned back before reluctantly nodding. He knew it wasn’t ideal, but it was all he had to work with. He knew Gonk was growing impatient. He could bet Bwonsamdi was, too. And yet all he could do was just sit there in the bushes and wait. It would’ve been enough to make him tear his hair out, but he wasn’t too keen on being bald again. It really hadn’t been a flattering look. Beside him, Syrise rolled her glowing green eyes.

“Z,” She tilted her head towards him, “Lemme give you some advice.”

Zami looked over to her, matching her apathetic expression.

“Oh, dis oughta be good,” He grumbled, earning a swat on his shoulder.

“Seriously,” Syrise hissed, “I know more about you when it comes to this stuff, alright? I used to be a Fa---”

“Farstrider,” Zami nodded, “I know. You talk bout it enough.”

“Do you even know what a Farstrider is, Z?” Syrise crossed her arms.

Zami just shrugged back. He’d always figured it was all right there in the name. A Farstrider was obviously someone who walked far distances. Maybe some kind of courier.

“Farstiders are rangers who travel the wildlands of Quel'Thalas, selfless protectors of the land and people,” Syrise explained, barely able to contain the pride in her voice, “They’re true bastions of honor, the ultimate upholders of law and order. And, honestly, they’re also the best archers in Azeroth.”

Zami perked an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side in disbelief.

“Wait, you were that?” He snorted incredulously, earning another smack on the shoulder.

“Yes, I was,” Syrise nodded, “For over half a decade.”

“How in da name of da Loa did you end up working for da Cartel?” Zami furrowed his brow, “What happened to ‘bastion of law’ and all dat?”

Syrise went rigid, looking away uncomfortably.

“Sore subject,” She said quickly, before adding, “Anyway, I think I have a better idea how to observe these tigers of yours.”

Zami perked an eyebrow as Syrise stood up, brushing off her leather armor.

“How good are you at climbing?”

A few moments later, Zami stood below a large tree with thick foliage, watching Syrise scuttle up the length of the trunk. As he watched, he wondered what it was about elves that made them all so attracted to climbing trees. Was it some kind of natural instinct or something? One that was in both night elves and blood elves alike?

“Okay, Z!” Syrise called down, once she was situated high up on a large branch, “Now you!”

Zami frowned back at her while eyeing the tree in uncertainty. To be honest, he’d never climbed a tree before. The cacti and joshua trees back Durotar had never seemed appealing to climb up onto. Especially not with his fear of heights.

That being said, it certainly couldn’t be harder than climbing around on a ship, right? He’d been able to do that for months, while the ship was moving and sometimes even in the rain. A stationary tree should’ve been easy enough.

Hesitantly, he set out a hand on a knothole near the base of the trunk.


	82. New Heights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so many reggae references in these chapter titles, you guys don’t even know.

Zami adjusted himself into a comfortable seated position on the branch, trying to focus on only looking at the branch itself. If his eye wandered even slightly, and took in the height, he was pretty sure he’d just faint.

“Wow,” Syrise said from beside him, “It’s so beautiful up here.”

Zami furrowed his brow, continuing to stare at the branch. After a moment, Syrise nudged him with her elbow.

“Hey, not gonna observe much if you don’t even look up, Z,” She pointed out.

Zami frowned, clenching his jaw. She was right. That was the whole point of even being up so high. Even so, he wasn’t sure he could bring himself to do it.

“You know, now that I think about it,” Syrise set a hand on her chin, “You’ve always been afraid of heights and stuff, right?”

Zami nodded subtly.

“What’s that about anyhow?”

Zami shrugged a little.

“Oh, come on,” Syrise nudged him with her elbow again, “The Zami I know wouldn’t be afraid of anything for no reason.”

“...W-Well…” Zami glanced over towards her, careful not to let his gaze stray downward, “I guess…”

“Ooh, story time!” Syrise grinned

Zami sighed, supposing he had no choice. He was stuck between a tree and a hard place.

“Okay okay,” He shrugged a little, “But it ain’t really da interesting.”

“That’s for the audience to decide,” Syrise chuckled, swinging her legs like a little kid.

“Um, well, I guess it started when I was a real small kid,” Zami began awkwardly.

It was strange telling this story. He was pretty sure he’d never told it to anyone before.

“I always had strange dreams, even back den.”

“Strange how?”

“Weird stuff,” Zami shrugged a little, “People I didn’t know. Places I hadn’t been.”

“Ooh, like a premonition?” Syrise perked up.

“I dunno bout dat…” Zami paused, thinking about it, “Den again, knowin’ my luck, maybe.”

“So you dreamed of, like, flying or something?”

Zami shook his head.

“The opposite,” He mumbled.

Syrise perked an eyebrow.

“Falling?” She asked slowly, eyes widening.

“Yeah,” He nodded, “From somewhere so high dat I couldn’t even see da ground. All I could see was dis huge tree, so tall it disappeared into da clouds above me.”

“Ooh, a big tree?” Syrise asked as she began to casually braid her blonde hair, still swinging her legs, “Like that one the kaldorei live on?”

Zami nodded and went to agree, but froze in an instant. He’d known about Teldrassil’s existence from Mythene for a little while now, but he’d never connected the two thoughts before. Noticing his lack of response, Syrise looked over at him.

“Hey, relax,” She paused in braiding her hair, “This tree is nowhere near that tall.”

“I-I know dat,” Zami cleared his throat.

Syrise hummed and returned to quietly braiding for a moment before finishing the braid, swinging it over her shoulder.

“Can I give you some advice, Z?” She said as she looked back at Zami.

“Ain’t like I could stop you.”

“I think you should stop worrying so much about everything,” She shrugged, “Honestly, Zami. What are the chances you’ll ever even see that tree?”

Zami paused, considering it. It was true that it was pretty unlikely. He’d barely been able to go into that camp in Ashenvale. A troll like him, druid or not, going into the night elven homeland----err, home tree---seemed even less likely.

“You know I’m right,” Syrise continued, nudging him with her elbow, “So what are you even worried about?”

Zami nodded after a moment. Though he didn’t really want to admit it to her, Syrise did have a point. Not that he’d tell her directly. Her ego was already big enough as it was.

“You should really see this, Z,” Syrise suddenly quipped, looking out across the clearing, “It’s worth it, I think.”

Zami knew what she was doing. She was giving him the opportunity to accept what she said without admitting it. He decided after a moment that he’d take that opportunity. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he made sure both hands were gripped onto the branch before looking up to follow her gaze.

“...Oh,” His eyebrows rose, “Wow…”

The sun was setting on the distant horizon, only visible through pieces of the dense jungle foliage. It cast a golden light across the tops of the shrubbery, glinting across the patch of grass in the clearing. Dusk had already started to darken the air in shades of deep blues and purples. The sounds of the jungle at night were beginning to come alive around them. Insects chirped in a soft harmony, and the caws of nightbirds echoed through the warm evening air. Amidst everything, one particular sound made Zami’s ears twitch. A soft growl.

“Ooh,” Syrise whispered, apparently having heard it too, “Look down there, three o’clock.”

Zami looked where she had signalled and perked up slightly. A lone tiger stalked along the clearing, its gaze fixated on a small brown rabbit. The rabbit was distracted by beginning to burrow itself a shallow nest for the night, but Zami knew it was a vain gesture. It’d waited too late to get to work, perhaps distracted from its work by the sound of them chatting.

Zami didn’t feel guilty, though. Even as the tiger pounced, snapping up the rabbit between its yellowed fangs. That was the law of the jungle. Those who were quick, or strong, or clever survived. If that rabbit hadn’t slipped up, if it hadn’t been just a little too slow, then perhaps it would’ve been the tiger who perished.

“Ugh, look at all the blood. It’s getting it everywhere,” Syrise whispered as she wrinkled her nose, “At least you won’t have to relearn how to be a slob, huh, Z?”

Zami shot her a flat look, hushing her, before returning to observing the tiger. Even in the midst of ripping the rabbit’s carcass apart, its gestures were graceful. Powerful. Every movement bore a sense of something almost like regality. Strength. That’s what it said to him. The law of the jungle, indeed.

“I wonder what it’s thinking about,” Syrise whispered.

Zami wanted to snap at her for breaking the silence, but part of him knew she was just trying to be helpful. She was giving him something to consider. What was that tiger thinking, after all? Maybe it was pleased to have something to eat so early in the evening. It could’ve been critiquing the taste of the rabbit. Maybe it didn’t care for the gameiness. It could’ve preferred the metallic taste of the blood. Was that why it was getting it all over? Or maybe it was internally complaining about the humidity. Perhaps it was planning to take a refreshing dip in the river later. He knew tigers did like swimming, after all. Yet another of their uniquenesses when it came to big cats.

Suddenly, Zami sat up a little.

“I gotta get closer,” He whispered.

“Huh? Wait, what?” Syrise turned and blinked at him.

“Gotta get closer,” Zami repeated, before scooting himself off the end of the branch.


	83. Meanwhile

Mythene cleared her throat uncomfortably, trying to keep her focus on the book in her lap. It was a very interesting tome on herbalism regarding the Eastern Kingdom, one of her favorites. She’d read a dozen times before, but felt it would be useful to brush up while here. There was, of course, just one problem.

The constant explosions.

As she flipped a page of her book, another boom caused her to flinch and tear the bottom corner. Furrowing her brow in annoyance, she glanced up.

“Might you please be a little quieter, Mister Boombottle?” She sighed, “I am trying to read.”

“Huh? What’s that, dollface?” Jazax looked up, just as the bottle of red liquid in front of him began to bubble, “Oh, jeez! Hold that thought!”

He quickly fiddled around with different contraptions on the little table he’d pulled from his pack. It looked like it was made out of scrap metal and it’d been much smaller when he first brought it out, having been only the size of a little box with a shiny red button. Now it was a full-length table, Goblin-sized of course, covered with various beakers and burners. It was certainly no alchemy Mythene had ever seen.

When the red liquid had turned purple and stopped bubbling, Jazax poured it into a flask and corked the bottle closed. Then, pushing his overly-large goggles up onto his forehead, he looked over at Mythene.

“Now what’re you going on about, sweetcheeks?” He asked, casually swirling the flask in his hand as if it hadn’t just been very close to exploding or something.

Mythene looked back at him flatly, eyebrow twitching in annoyance.

“Just what sort of alchemist are you?” She asked curtly.

“A brilliant one, if I do say so myself,” He grinned, looking very self-satisfied.

Mythene rolled her eyes, turning back to the book in her lap. A moment later, there was a loud explosion. She bitterly glanced up at Jazax, who was now singed and smoking. Widening her eyes, she went to ask if he was alright, but stopped once she saw his grin grow.

“Ha! This mixture’s even better than the last!” He said excitedly, tossing the remains of the broken flask aside into the bushes, before throwing himself back into his work.

Mythene went to protest but only sighed. What was the point? Give him a little more time and the bushes would just be a pile of ash, anyway. She shook her head and turned back to her book, but paused when she heard anxious hissing coming from underneath her.

Perking an eyebrow, she lifted the book off her lap to see Zeni was tucked up against the log she was seated on, shivering and clearly frightened by the constant explosions. It was quite the contrast from Zami’s raptor, which was sleeping nearby without a care in the world. It must’ve been used to the goblin’s antics, she figured.

“Oh, Zeni,” Mythene frowned, setting the book beside her on the log, “It’s alright, dalah’el.”

She cooed gently, scooping Zeni up into her hands and holding him close. He hissed quietly, grateful for her comforting gesture, and nestled up against her. His thorns scraped up against her skin, making her wince, but she didn’t pull away. That would make her gesture entirely devoid of purpose, after all.

Suddenly there was another boom and Zeni, in a startled panic, sunk his thorns deep into Mythene’s skin. She grunted in pain, shutting her eyes tightly for a moment. Once she’d braced herself for the movement, she peeled Zeni off and set him beside her on the log. Quickly hugging herself, she shut her eyes again and took a deep breath. She heard Zeni hiss in confusion, and then when she opened her eyes the pain was gone.

“Much better,” She nodded to herself, before another boom made both her and Zeni jump with a start.

Her patience at its limit, Mythene stood up and strode over towards Jazax. She slapped her hands down on the little metal table, making the little bottles and beakers dance. Jazax quickly dove forward to catch them, making sure they didn’t fall and spill their contents.

“Hey! Easy there, you clod!” He barked, “This stuff’s dangerous!”

“It seems I would know that more than you,” Mythene sniffed, looking down her nose at him, “Nothing I brew ever explodes.”

“Well, then you clearly ain’t doing something right,” Jazax snickered as he returned all the bottles to their proper places.

“That is your goal?” Mythene scoffed incredulously, “To blow yourself up?”

“Well, not me specifically,” Jazax shrugged, looking up at her, “But the bigger the boom, the better!”

Mythene scoffed again, setting her hands on her hips. She had heard Goblin contraptions did tend to explode, but this was ridiculous. Her eyes glanced over the various ingredients he’d collected. A strange variety of plants, a few preserved animal-derived ingredients, and a great deal of vials of water.

“What are you even trying to brew?” She furrowed her brow, the combinations not matching up to any recipe in her head.

And, considering she’d been an alchemist for three centuries, there were few recipes she didn’t know.

“Trade secret,” Jazax said cautiously, “Can’t go sharing the secrets of the boombottles.”

Mythene perked an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side.

“It’s some kind of family secret, then?”

“Huh? Family?” Jazax looked back, matching her confusion, “Why, is some other goblin claiming he knows how to make these? Cause I made this recipe myself, you hear? I make the only genuine boombottles!”

“But Boombottle...is that not your family name?”

“Oh, right,” Jazax nodded, “Yeah, yeah. But I mean, I picked that myself, y’know? After these babies.”

Mythene blinked at him blankly, before bringing her hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose. She was starting to get a headache from the way this goblin talked.

“You forsook your true surname for your little exploding potions?” Mythene sneered, unable to mask her disdain at the idea, “How could you abandon your family so easily?”

Jazax, who had been back at the process of mixing vials together, stopped abruptly. He looked up at Mythene with a tired expression.

“What’re you, some kinda uncultured moron?” He perked an eyebrow, “Everybody knows goblins don’t care much about family. Any goblin who does anything worthwhile will replace their birth name to show off whatever they did. Not that I had anything to change in the first place, alright?”

“A-Ah? Is that so?” Mythene glanced aside awkwardly, feeling like she’d inadvertently said something that struck a nerve.

In response, Jazax growled in frustration, pushing his goggles back down.

“Look, sweetcheeks, I don’t got time to explain every little nuance of goblin culture for your amusement, alright? I’m kinda busy here. Your kind lives for a long time anyway, you really oughta know these things already. Not that you guys ever do. How is it that every one of you guys is more naive than the last when it comes to anybody who isn’t purple?”

Mythene went to respond but Jazax continued.

“It’s a lack of curiosity, if you ask me. You guys seem pretty content to just keep everything how it already is. Protect nature and all that, yadda yadda. But that’s where you guys got it wrong, see? Sure, sure, nature is good and all. But have you thought about what could be made outta all that? There’s so many things that can be made with that nature you’re so keen on protecting. I bet if you guys would just stop getting in the way of progress, we’d have peace between the Alliance and the Horde already. Bet you never thought of that, huh?”

Mythene furrowed her brow as Jazax continued to ramble on, his topic changing several times without skipping a beat. Eventually, he made his way back around to the initial topic at hand.

“So yeah, you wanna learn about goblins? Leave this goblin outta it. Go read about it in a book or something.”

“Oh, I would gladly go read,” Mythene hissed, “If you would stop making something explode every five seconds!”

Jazax glanced up at her tiredly.

“Jeez, lady,” He sighed, “Zami actually puts up with this on a daily basis?”

He paused to shake his head, halfway between pity and bemusement.

“He really does got it bad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dalah’el roughly means “my leaf” in Darnassian. Taken from phrases with confirmed meanings: Dalah Surfal meaning “my love” and Alor’el meaning “Lover’s Leaf” (a plant).


	84. Heavy

“Now what did we learn?” Syrise raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t jump outta trees,” Zami grumbled, glancing aside.

“And?” Syrise nudged the makeshift cast she had rigged up, making him wince.

“And don’t bother a tiger when it be in da middle of eating.”

He paused a moment to run a hand over the fresh scars on his arm. They had stopped bleeding, but they still hadn’t regenerated yet. Odd. He had half a mind to ignore it, but he knew what had happened the last time he did that. He didn’t want to owe Bwonsamdi twice over. But then, how could tiger claws be poisoned anyway?

“Hey, well, on the bright side,” Syrise shrugged as she finished wrapping the cast on his leg, “At least we got this really nice pelt out of it.”

She paused to gesture to the tiger corpse beside her with her thumb. A single arrow pierced deep through one of its green eyes.

“Anyway, we should be getting back,” She continued, “Jazzy can heal you right up.”

“Mi’ten can too,” Zami nodded, as Syrise helped him stand up, “And she taught me a little bit.”

“Oh? You can heal now?” Syrise looked over, “Well why don’t you just heal your leg?”

“Gotta clear ya mind first,” Zami sighed, “And I got a lotta thoughts right now.”

“Well don’t hurt yourself,” Syrise teased, “You’re already looking pretty rough. Guess that’s getting old, huh?”

“I don’t think so,” Zami admitted quietly, not even having meant to.

“Huh?” Syrise perked an eyebrow as they began to hobble back towards the camp, “What do you mean?”

Zami sighed, supposing there was no putting that back in the bag now that he’d already piqued her curiosity. When it came to Syrise, she was relentless about getting to the bottom of a mystery.

“...I died,” He said slowly, cautious how the words would sound in his mouth.

“Not yet,” Syrise chuckled, but Zami shook his head.

“No, not now. Before, bout a week ago now.”

Syrise paused, raising a blonde brow in curiosity.

“But you’re right here, I’m looking at you,” She pointed out, “How could you be dead? You’re not a ghost, are you?”

She paused to pinch him to make sure, earning an annoyed grunt.

“Just checking!”

Zami just sighed and shook his head, looking away from her. Finally saying what had happened aloud made it feel so real. It was suddenly heavy enough to crush him.

“Poison,” He mumbled, “That’s what did it.”

“Poison, huh?” Syrise glanced her glowing green eyes over at him.

Something about her tone made it clear she was skeptical, but still entertaining him. Perhaps she thought he had a concussion or something, and was keeping him talking so he didn’t pass out.

“I met Bwonsamdi.”

“Who now?”

“Da Loa of Graves,” Zami explained quickly.

“Ah, right,” She rolled her eyes, “Your little troll gods.”

Zami grunted in annoyance. Syrise wasn’t one to judge based on one’s race. But disrespecting other cultures, trolls especially, was just second nature for her. She was a blood elf, after all, and their peoples hadn’t exactly had the best history. From what he remembered his friend Ran’do telling him, anyway.

“I made a deal,” Zami frowned, “Another life for my life.”

“Gotta do what you gotta do, right?” Syrise shrugged, “As long as you didn’t promise to trade me, because I don’t mind leaving you here, Z.”

“Not you,” Zami chuckled, “Bwonsamdi would only take somebody important.”

“Okay, first off, ouch,” Syrise pouted, “So not me or Jazzy.”

Zami perked an eyebrow, and she shrugged a little.

“Well if I’m not important enough, then neither is he. We’re, like, a package deal. Actual partners in crime, you know?”

Zami chuckled quietly, glancing aside. He recalled Jazax’s previous confession to him in amusement. She really didn’t have a clue at all, it seemed.

“So, who did you trade off in your place?”

“...My dad.”

“Oh, hey, well that’s a pretty good deal. Don’t you hate the guy? So it’s sort of like a two-for-one, right?”

“Not exactly,” Zami sighed, “See, I gotta find him and perform da ritual of binding on him. Den I gotta kill him myself.”

“Oh and let me guess, you have a time limit?”

“No, actually.”

“Hmm, then you don’t think you can kill him?”

“No, I can. I been wanting to kill dat guy for years.”

“Okay, so, what exactly are you so upset about then?” Syrise shrugged, “You’re not dead, you have to kill a guy you already wanted to kill, and you have no time limit. What’s the problem?”

“I died, Syrise,” Zami scowled.

“Oh boohoo. You sorta-kinda-almost died. Get over it, Z.”

“But I---”

“Wait, wait,” Syrise suddenly stopped, her ears twitching.

“What?” Zami whispered, before going quiet to listen.

“I thought I heard something,” She sighed, her shoulders relaxing, “I guess it was just the wind or something.”

Zami furrowed his brow, glancing around. It was a bit hard to see now that dusk had fallen. They were still near to the hunting grounds, which meant the thick foliage kept the moonlight from streaming down and illuminating the path properly.

“Hold on,” He said quietly, bringing his hand up to his eyepatch.

He wasn’t sure if this would even work, but it was worth a try. He flipped his eyepatch up and blinked a few times. Closing his left eye, he looked around to the green-tinted version of the jungle. It looked very much the same, but everything was brighter and greener. Just as he was convinced it hadn’t worked and brought his hand up to flip the eyepatch back down, there was a snapping twig behind them. He quickly turned his head to look and immediately brought a hand to his dagger.

“Zami? What---” Syrise stopped short as he drew his blade.

“Bloodscalps,” Zami growled, “Six of dem. Must be a scouting party.”

Syrise was quiet for a moment, before sighing quietly.

“Z…”

“Get ya bow ready.”

“Z,” Syrise shook her head slightly, “We can’t fight them like this.”

“What?” Zami glanced over at her, “We been through worse. Remember whe---”

“You’re injured, Z,” Syrise frowned, “You can’t even walk.”

Zami shot another flat look over at her.

“What, you sayin’ we just gonna surrender then?”

If that was what she was saying, then he almost couldn’t believe this was actually Syrise.

“No,” She said slowly, “We aren’t.”

Zami stole another glance at her, and he was suddenly unnerved by her determined expression.

“Syrise…” He began, his tone warning.

“Hold your breath, Z,” Syrise said as her hand moved to the pouch at her hip.

“Syrise, don’t,” Zami hissed.

“Hold your breath,” She repeated, her hand sinking into the pouch.

Syrise pulled a smoke bomb from her pouch, pushing it into Zami’s hand.

“I ain’t gonna leave you,” Zami whispered firmly.

Syrise smirked over at him.

“Oh, Z, you idiot,” She chuckled, putting her hand over his, “You won’t have to.”

She suddenly slapped his hand roughly, making him drop the smoke bomb. He only just managed to suck in a breath before the thick smoke enveloped them. A moment later, he felt Syrise disappear from his side. He tried to keep his balance, but his injured leg gave out and he fell back into the dirt.

Zami cursed under his breath as the smoke began to clear. Then he sat up, just in time to see Syrise disappear into the forest, with the six Bloodscalps right behind her.


	85. Healers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, sorry this took so long. I had so much trouble with this chapter. Rewrote it a dozen times.

Zami cursed under his breath, pressing his hands tighter onto the cast to check the healing progress and making himself wince in pain. Still injured. He then closed his eyes and took deep breaths until he got light-headed, but still nothing happened. He still couldn’t clear his mind, either. At least injuries were definitely healing on their own, the scars long-since faded, but the pace of the regeneration for his broken leg was unbearably slow.

He really was getting old.

The realization stung. It really shouldn’t have taken him by such surprise. The endless jokes and barbs about his age were a near-daily reminder. He was old. Too old to be running around Azeroth like some bright-eyed adventurer only seeing the world for the first time. He’d been around, he’d seen plenty. He resisted the urge to reminisce, knowing it would only make him feel even older.

Zami had waited close to an hour, wondering if Syrise was planning to circle back, but she never reappeared. Night had truly blackened the jungle by this point, and he was only capable of seeing at all due to his green eye.

Elsewhere in the jungle, night birds called, insects buzzed, and creatures chittered. There was still no sign of Syrise, and no sign of the Bloodscalps either, so he supposed there was no use in waiting any longer. She wasn’t coming back. It seemed Zami was truly alone.

Frowning, he leaned back against the tree, slowly getting to his feet. His broken leg was searing with pain, and it gave out underneath him despite his best efforts. At least it wasn’t so severe as it had been before, when he’d had to crawl over to the tree. He tried once more to stand, but no luck. He growled, hitting his head back against the tree in frustration, and winced in pain a moment later.

“Ugh, why’s everything always gotta happen to me?” He grumbled to himself, reaching up to rub the back of his head.

When the empty air responded to his inquiry with silence, he huffed. Not that he’d been expecting a response, of course. He was alone. But maybe that was okay, his mind argued. He liked being alone. He sought it out whenever there were too many people around. Zami just liked his solitude. It was comfortable. He worked better alone, anyway.

Like a tiger.

Zami snorted in amusement at the connection, but fell still upon hearing movement in the nearby bushes further up the path. He quickly put his hand on his dagger, ready to pull it free if need be. But as soon as he heard the voices accompanied, his hand moved away.

“Are you sure this is working, Mister Boombottle?”

“Am I sure? Of course I’m sure! One time, Zami got himself captured by some Southsea scum after a little talk with his buddy, Tony Two-Tusk, went down wrong. Me and Tezz had to track him down this way. Think of it as a big dog...with, uh, overgrown teeth.”

“I see,” Mythene responded shortly, “Wait, who is this Tezz?”

“Uhh, she’s nobody. Disregard that.”

The bushes by him rustled and he heard a familiar growl. A moment later, Aka charged forward, knocking her head into his forcefully. Zami winced a little, trying not to seem hurt by her affectionate gesture, and brought his hand up to stroke her nose.

“Hey dere girl,” He said quietly, glancing over as Mythene and Jazax emerged from the path Aka had taken.

“See? What’d I tell ya?” Jazax folded his arms triumphantly, grinning at Mythene.

Mythene just rolled her eyes, giving a short sigh, before approaching Zami. She crouched down beside him, quickly taking notice of the cast. Before even saying two words to him, she was already removing it.

“Uh, hello to you too,” He perked an eyebrow.

“Let me focus,” Mythene sniffed, not bothering to look up.

Jazax approached beside him, leaning over curiously and staring at his left eye.

“Why wear an eyepatch if you got a perfectly good eye?” He asked with a little shrug, pointing at Zami’s green eye.

“It don’t work like normal,” Zami explained, “It sees da, uh, Emerald Dream.”

“Emerald Dream, huh?” Jazax nodded, “Yeah, I get that dream a lot too.”

Both Zami and Mythene paused, glancing at him in confusion.

“Y’know,” Jazax shrugged, “The one with all the emeralds.”

Mythene rolled her eyes again, going back to tending to the cast.

“Yeah, uh, not dat kind Jaz,” Zami chuckled, “Druid stuff.”

“Oh, yeah, I dunno anything about that,” Jazax waved a hand dismissively, following that up by waiting for a beat.

When only the night sounds of the jungle answered, he looked around quickly in surprise.

“Wait, where’s the comment saying how I don’t know about anything at all?” He furrowed his brow in concern, “Where’s Syrise?”

“Hm? Ah, yes, she does seem to be absent,” Mythene noted, as Zeni popped its head out of her vest pocket, waving a vine-arm at Zami.

Zami recounted what had happened for the two of them, watching Jazax’s expression grow increasingly concerned.

“Well what’re we sitting around here for then?” The goblin frowned, “We gotta go find her!”

“I’m afraid that is simply impossible,” Mythene shook her head, “This injury to Zami’s leg is beyond what I can heal with a simple spell. It appears the bone is broken.”

“What, you can’t even heal a broken bone?” Jazax snapped, “I thought you were supposed to be some big, great healer!”

Mythene furrowed her brow in offense.

“Perhaps I could’ve healed it, were the wound still fresh, but as it is---”

“Okay, that’s it,” Jazax pushed Mythene aside, “Move over, sweetcheeks, and let a real healer show you how it’s done.”

Mythene scowled, putting a hand against her chest.

“Well, I never!”

“Yeah, you never,” Jazax looked at her flatly, “Exactly my point.”

Mythene stood up with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well, then, if you’re so wonderful, Mister Boombottle, then let’s see it.”

Zami tried not to smirk at her childish demeanor.

“Okay, let’s get this over with,” Jazax said as he stretched out his arms.

Then he slapped his little green hands over Zami’s broken leg, making him wince in pain at the gesture. He went to snap at Jazax, but the goblin’s eyes were closed and his head was bowed.

“In the name of the Holy Light,” He began, drawing skeptical glances from both Mythene and Zami, “Let this wound be healed.”

A glow emerged from his hands and the pain in his leg faded when the light did. Zami raised his eyebrows in surprise. So Jazax really had become a priest. Part of him still hadn’t believed it, but the proof was undeniable now.

“Oh, please,” Mythene sniffed, tilting up her nose, “You don’t even rely upon your own skills to heal. You’re just convincing another force to do your bidding. No better than a Warlock, honestly.”

“Yeah, well,” Jazax smirked at her with a shrug, “Convincing others to do your bidding is what goblins are best at.”


	86. Hotseat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the brief hiatus! Anyway, you guys should check out the first chapter of the Jazax prequel if you haven’t already! It’s already up on both my FF and AO3 accounts!

“How does your leg feel now?” Mythene asked, for what must’ve been the hundredth time.

Zami sighed deeply at the question, walking a little faster. He just wanted to be back at camp already. He planned to snap at her, the repetition getting on his nerves, but faltered when he looked down at her face. Her expression was one of genuine concern, and he found it sucked all venom out of his words.

“Da same as I told ya five minutes ago, Mi’ten,” He just grumbled tiredly, slightly surprised by his own lack of fight.

“I’m just making certain,” She said with a brisk nod, eyeing his leg, “We can’t be too certain the goblin’s healing truly worked. For all I know, your leg could be primed to explode.”

At that comment, Jazax scowled up at her.

“Now why would I do that?” He scoffed, “I only explode people I don’t like, and occasionally some annoying orphans.”

A beat passed.

“Speakin’ of which, sweetcheeks, I got a present for y---”

“Jaz,” Zami shot him a stern glance of warning, after which the goblin just grumbled and removed his hand from his pocket.

“Yeah yeah,” He sighed, “Relax, Zami. I won’t blow up your girlfriend.”

Mythene suddenly tripped on something, a root perhaps, and stumbled forward, slapping her hand quickly into Zami’s back for balance. As a result, he was pushed forward, face-first into the body of a tree. He winced in mild pain from the impact, and winced in even greater pain from Jazax’s mocking laughter.

“Haha! Have a nice trip, you two?” He grinned devilishly, “Was it your honeymoon?”

Zami decided the best course of action was to simply ignore Jazax’s comment, instead leaning away from the tree with a grimace.

“Ugh, Mi’ten, ya done gone nearly busted up my nose,” He whined, gently rubbing the bridge of his sore nose.

“Ah? Sorry, thero’shan,” She mumbled before turning to look down at Jazax, “And what in the name of Elune are you talking about?”

“What, are you the one with the one eye, lady?” Jazax grinned, making Zami scowl.

He was starting to reconsider not having killed Jazax at some point in the past.

“I don’t understand what you---”

“Ain’t is obvious?” The goblin’s grin grew, “I mean, if you don’t know then it ain’t my place to say, but c’mon people, it’s as clear as a pricy diamond.”

Mythene scowled suspiciously, furrowing her long white brows crossly. If there was one thing Zami knew Mythene didn’t like, it was being out of the loop when it came to information. And the fact that Jazax, of all people, knew something that she didn’t was probably enough to drive her up the wall. So he really shouldn’t have been surprised when Mythene turned on her heel sharply and looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to translate the unintelligible words coming out of the goblin’s mouth.

“Uhh, well, y’see...” Zami faltered, “Da thing about dat is… um, well… how do I put dis….”

He wasn’t even sure what he should say. Should he admit what Jazax was saying he apparently felt? He was pretty sure it wasn’t true. Should he outright deny it then? Well, he wasn’t all that sure it was entirely false, either. As Mythene perked an eyebrow at him curiously, and Jazax shot him a grin that was either encouraging or mocking, Zami struggled to find the words. He was just trying to consider ways to get out of the situation, when he was beaten to the punch.

“You should just spit it out, Z,” A familiar voice piped in from above, “It would save everybody a lot of trouble.”

The three of them all looked up, expressions matching how they felt. Jazax was relieved. Mythene was suspicious. Zami was curious. Their gazes all fell upon the sight of a familiar figure sitting up in a tree above them, swinging her legs over the branch like a child. Jazax grinned. Mythene perked an eyebrow. Zami sighed.

“Oh good, ya okay,” Zami grunted, suddenly feeling a little bit world-weary from everything that had happened that day.

“What, like I wouldn’t be?” Syrise scoffed, “C’mon, Z, you really think I can’t take five trolls?”

“Why’d you run off den?” He asked and Syrise rolled her eyes, like it was obvious.

“Um, hello? Broken leg o’clock?” She answered before jumping down from the branch with a flip.

Instead of landing outright, as Zami had done and ended up with a broken leg for it, she landed in a sort of roll until she caught herself standing upright. It was an impressive little gesture, and it was clear to Zami she was showing off.

“We were just bout to get some things from camp, den head up to Zul’Kunda to look for ya,” Zami explained, ignoring her display.

Beside him, Jazax snorted, waving a hand dismissively.

“Eh, I told them they were wastin’ their time with that. I knew you were gonna be fine, Syrise.”

At this, Mythene’s eyebrow twitched, and Zami knew exactly what she was going to say before she said it. He didn’t stop it though. After what he’d just almost caused with his teasing, Zami figured the goblin could take some in return.

“Mister Boombottle,” Mythene cleared her throat, “If I recall correctly, were you not in fact in a panic to the point of near-hysterics, practically beside yourself with worry for the safety of Miss Duskstrider, and insisting we immediately begin searching for her without bothering to get any resources first?”

Without skipping a beat, Jazax waved a hand at her dismissively again.

“What? No, not me,” He scoffed, “Must’ve been Zami, cause I don’t care if the broad lives or dies.”

He was a good liar, but Syrise knew him well enough to know better.

“Aww, I knew you cared about me, Jazzy,” Syrise teased.

She leaned over with one hand on her knees and the other poking at his cheek. A devilish grin spread across her face, and Zami noted Jazax’s cool expression nearly faltered. Nearly. The both of them were good liars, but they also both knew each other well enough to make their mutual skills effectively moot.

“Yeah yeah,” Jazax grumbled, swatting her hand away before adding a little shrug, “Yeah, maybe a little, okay? But don’t go lettin’ it go to your head, alright? Cause the last thing I need is you gettin’ the idea that I---”

Mythene cleared her throat, interrupting with a mischievous expression on her lips.

“And was that before or after you started crying?” She asked, tone cold but in that way Zami had come to recognize as playful.

Jazax’s indifferent expression finally broke at that, for a moment at least, betraying his true underlying self-consciousness. It was gone, hidden away again, almost as quickly as it had appeared. If Syrise had caught sight of it, which Zami didn’t doubt she had, she made no outward signs of it. Instead she just chuckled and pinched Jazax’s cheek.

“Aww, Jazzy, you really thought I was in danger, huh?” Syrise teased, her voice in singsong, “Got yourself all worried about me?”

“No,” Jazax responded cautiously, “Not really.”

Syrise stood up and shot him a skeptical smirk, putting her hands on her hips.

“Crying for me, Jaz?” She perked a blonde eyebrow.

Jazax was silent for a moment, clearly weighing his options just as Zami had been doing a few minutes before. For all his love of explosives, Jazax sure didn’t seem to love the hotseat.

“I wasn’t crying,” He said after a moment, “I just had somethin’ in my eye.”

“Uh huh,” Syrise smiled, leaning back down to him, “And I’m the Queen of Stormwind.”

Then she leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. It was over before there was time to even react, though both Jazax and Mythene’s expressions were equally surprised at this outcome. Then Syrise stood up and clasped her hands together behind her back, looking over at Zami.

“Hey, so what’d you do with that tiger we got earlier, Z?” She asked casually, “Because I’m starving!”


	87. Carvings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! I’ve been having some really bad writer’s block lately, so I’ve just been playing WoW and WC3 to try and get some inspiration.

Zami grumbled under his breath as he carved out another piece of the tiger’s flesh, setting it into the metal bowl beside him with the other pieces. The pieces were jagged and inelegantly cut, with bits of fat clinging to the sinewy meat, but Zami didn’t really care. He just wanted to get it over with already. His hands were tired. No, exhausted. 

First he’d had to go back and find the tiger, carrying it back to camp with Syrise. At least he’d had help for that, as he’d then had to do everything else by himself. Next he’d had to remove the entire hide, then salt the skin, then to hang it to dry on a makeshift drying rack. A rack he’d had to rig up himself, of course. And now he had to carve the meat and somehow cook it into something that elves would be willing to eat.

It was...a lot.

Zami continued to grumble, quietly cursing his cooking abilities. He’d always been good at it, and unfortunately, Syrise and Jazax still remembered his talent from back in the day. So he was stuck next to the fire, grumpily carving pieces of meat. He figured he could just add some water and leftover drying salt, call it a stew. That’d have to be good enough. He doubted Jazax or Syrise would complain, as he’d definitely made worse in the past, but he couldn’t help but wonder what Mythene’s reaction would be. Even though they’d accompanied each other these last few months, he’d never cooked for her. Would she be impressed, he wondered, or would she turn up her nose?

“Thero’shan?”

Zami jumped, quickly looking up at Mythene. The firelight danced across the soft curves of her face, and made her silver hair shine with a bronze glow. It was pretty, and he stared for a moment.

“Oh, uh, yeah?” Zami cleared his throat, looking back to watch his cooking knife slice through the tiger’s flesh.

He hoped she didn’t notice the slight color to his face.

“Would you like some help?” She asked, crouching down beside him and resting her hands atop her knees, “You look quite tired.”

Zami paused a moment, considering her offer, before nodding.

“Sure,” He said slowly, “What’cha wanna do?”

“What’re you making?” She asked, gathering her silver hair in her hands and binding it together in a ponytail, “It appears to be some kind of stew?”

“Dat’s da plan,” Zami nodded absentmindedly, trying not to stare as she dealt with her hair, “Got any cookin’ experience?”

“Um, a little,” She shrugged slightly, “It is, admittedly, not well within my repertoire of many, many skills.”

“Well, is cuttin’ in ya many skills?” Zami smirked, holding the bloody knife to her.

She hesitated a moment before gingerly taking the handle, holding the knife like it was burning her skin. When she finally grasped the handle, the blade was upside down. Zami snorted in amusement as she went to cut into the carcass, and it earned him a scowl.

“And what is so humorous, thero’shan?” She asked indignantly.

Zami grinned at her, reaching over and taking her hand in his. He then pulled the knife from her hand, turning it rightside up, and reset it in her palm. She blushed at realizing her blunder and pulled her hand away quickly.

“Ah, I see,” She grumbled, “Like this then…”

She proceeded to stab the knife into the meat forcefully, making Zami cringe slightly. Well, either way, it would probably be better than he’d do with his exhausted hands. Shrugging slightly, he turned his focus to preparing the pot, adding the water and salt. A quick taste test of the brine made him scowl. There was no way it would impress Mythene. It was too plain. It needed something else. He paused to think about it before looking in his pack for anything to use.

He pulled out each item, before tossing it aside with an unimpressed grunt. Spare knives, the ones Zalu had bought. Healing potion from Mok’thardin, probably shouldn’t waste that. The Darnassian book he’d been studying with Mythene, likely wouldn’t taste good. That old elf statue he’d gotten in Mulgore, surely made unpalatable by the quillboar. Lastly, he pulled out his foldable fishing rod and stopped. Maybe that’d work. Adding fish could at least add some texture, and maybe more depth to the taste. Yeah, he thought with a nod, that could work.

As he stood up, Mythene looked over at him curiously and went to speak but froze. Zami looked at her surprised expression curiously before following her gaze. It was locked on the elf statue. She stated for a moment longer before reaching out to pick up the silver idol, her movements gentle with a sort of reverence.

“Thero’shan...” She looked up at him, “Where did you get this?”

“Quillboar had it,” He shrugged, crouching down beside her again, “Why? What is dat thing?”

Mythene set down the skinning knife, focusing her full attention on the statue. She wiped at the dirt and grime with her hands in an effort to clean it. Once she had gotten it to a semblance of clean, she spoke.

“An idol of Haidene.”

“Who now?”

“She was the first high priestess of Elune.” 

“Ya always mentionin’ dis Elune person,” Zami perked an eyebrow, “Who dey s’posta be? Some old hero or somethin’?”

Mythene blinked over at him incredulously.

“No, Elune is not a person,” She said quickly, her tone chastising, “She is a goddess.”

“Uh huh, gotcha,” Zami nodded, setting aside his fishing pole before picking up the discarded knife.

So much for helping, he thought to himself as he began to carve the meat once more.

“It is said that she created all of my people in her form, but her beauty transcends that of all mortals,” Mythene explained as she stared down at the statue, “It is said she bears skin of alabaster, long hair made of beams of moonlight, and eyes that bear the white glow of the moon.”

Zami froze halfway through cutting, quickly looking over at Mythene with a conflicted expression. It couldn’t be the same...right?

“Though no one has truly ever seen her,” Mythene continued, making Zami’s brow furrow, “Even High Priestess Whisperwind hasn’t seen her.”

“Um, Mi’ten…” Zami began uncomfortably, his memories returning to that night in Mulgore.

“Hm? Yes?” She looked over at him, furrowing her brow at his odd expression, “What is it, thero’shan?”

Zami cleared his throat, looking back down at the tiger, the scrutiny of her gaze making him uncomfortable.

“Nobody seen her before, huh?” He awkwardly rubbed his neck, “Never?”

“Never,” Mythene shook her head, before squinting suspiciously, “....why?”

Zami glanced aside uncomfortably for a moment. No, it had to be somebody else. It had to be.

“No reason,” He said quickly, trying his best to keep his expression neutral.

But, then, Mythene could always read him like an open book.


	88. Appropriation

Mythene was quiet for several minutes, her gaze having drifted away from Zami to the small silver statue in her hands. She ran her slender purple fingers across the worn features, and there was a peculiar gentleness to her movements.

Beside her, Zami cleared his throat, trying to busy himself with carving the last scraps he could from the tiger’s carcass. While Mythene always could tell what he was thinking with a glance, Zami never had a clue what she was thinking. It made him kind of nervous.

“Haidene,” She said quietly, as if mostly to herself.

“Huh? What?” Zami looked up at her.

“Haidene,” Mythene repeated, gesturing to the statue, “Her name was Haidene, remember?”

“Oh, right,” Zami nodded, pretending he hadn’t forgotten.

Elf names were kind of hard to remember, and it wasn’t like that was someone significant to him. Still, she must’ve been important to get a statue. What was it she did again…?

“...Ah!” Zami perked up as the memory came to him, startling Mythene, “Right, right, da priestess!”

“Yes,” Mythene nodded, a smile growing on her lips, “She was the very first priestess of Elune, tens of thousands of years ago. She heard the voice of Elune herself, speaking to her as a small child.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Mythene nodded.

“But even she never saw the goddess in person.”

“Oh, uh...yeah…”

Zami cleared his throat again, trying not to feel awkward. She hadn’t gotten upset yet, so it was going well thus far. She had neither accused him of lying nor acted in outrage. She didn’t even exclaim disbelief. It was very surprising. Almost out of character.

“Yes, Haidene was truly quite amazing…” Mythene said with a soft laugh, “I always admired her so greatly. In fact, in my youth, I would sit before the great statue in the Temple of the Moon, in Darnassus, and pray for hours. I had hoped to even follow in her footsteps and become a priestess of Elune.”

Zami pondered this for a moment, trying to picture Mythene as a priestess. He wasn’t really sure what a priestess of Elune was like, so he had to go off of what he knew about the priesthood of the Light. Which mostly began and ended with Jazax. He paused to look over at the goblin, who was giving Syrise his signature cheesy grin. Probably in an attempt to either hit on her or borrow money. Perking an eyebrow, he looked back over to Mythene.

“Nope,” He shook his head, “I don’t see it.”

“Excuse me?” Mythene furrowed her brow at him, “What do you mean you ‘don’t see it’?”

“Don’t see it,” Zami shrugged, “I think ya make a betta druid.”

Mythene scowled for a moment before scoffing, quickly standing up.

“And what do you know about the matter?” She sneered down at him.

Zami just blinked up at her in confusion, not following how the conversation had turned her to anger. This whole conversation was making him feel stupid. Well, stupider than usual.

“You don’t even know anything about Elune,” Mythene huffed and turned on her heel, “Ignorant troll.”

Zami looked at her flatly for a moment as she began to stride away before glancing aside.

“Least I know what she looks like,” He mumbled, unable to mask his slight irritation, making her stop short.

“What did you say?” She growled, gripping tightly onto the statue, which Zami only just realized she intended to take.

“Hey,” He furrowed his brow, pointing to the statue with his knife, “Dat ain’t yours.”

“On the contrary,” Mythene gripped the statue tighter, “This belongs to me far more than it does to you.”

“Nuh uh,” Zami quickly shook his head, fetish rattling in his dreadlocks, “I found dat.”

“You don’t even care what it stands for---what she stands for,” Mythene held the statue close to her chest, “Haidene is the priestess of my people, not yours! Elune is the goddess of my people, not yours! You have no right to take what does not belong to you!”

Zami was going to make a snarky remark, a really good one about how her suggesting such a notion surrounded by former thieves was laughable. But he didn’t say anything. He could only watch the angry tears roll down Mythene’s cheeks in a stunned sort of silence.

It was the second time he had ever seen her cry.

“Dis...ain’t bout da statue, is it?” Zami said slowly as he cocked his head to the side, setting down the skinning knife.

“Oh, what do you know,” Mythene scoffed, tilting her chin up in a way she hadn’t done for months, “You don’t even know---”

“Yeah, I don’t know no goddess,” Zami cut her off with a sigh, resting his forearms atop his thighs, “But I think I might startin’ to kinda know you.”

Mythene’s brow flinched, and she almost looked nervous at his words. It was an uncharacteristically vulnerable expression.

“I dunno, mon,” Zami shrugged a little, “Da Mi’ten I know ain’t seemin’ da type to cry over some dumb statue, y’know?”

Mythene was quiet, bringing a hand to her cheek in surprise as she felt her own tears. Zami quirked an eyebrow, finding her reaction curious. It was like she didn’t even realize it. After blinking for a moment, she noticed Zami studying her expression and hastily wiped her tears away with the palm of her hand. And just like that, her walls were up as suddenly as they had fallen, and her expression was stone cold once more.

“Fine,” She hissed, “If you want it so much, then just take the fool thing.”

She threw the statue at Zami, hitting him in the stomach. Zami fell backwards, the wind knocked out of him. Once he caught his breath, he sat up but Mythene was already gone. He furrowed his brow, still a bit confused, before reaching to pick up the statue. He examined it in disinterest, finding nothing especially grand about it. He’d only even taken it because it looked like it could’ve been worth money. Aside from being silver, it reminded him nothing of that moon lady. If anything, it looked more like Mythene.

Actually, now that he looked at the statue more closely, he found that its face had many similarities with Mythene’s, even as weathered as it was. As he wondered if all night elves just looked the same in his eyes, he heard a dry chuckle from the fire beside him.

Looking over, he saw Jazax sitting there with a black eye.

“Hey buddy, pass me one of them steaks there, huh?”

Zami blinked at him a moment before reaching into the metal pot and handing a slab of meat to the goblin. Jazax promptly slapped the raw steak against his face, sinking down a little.

“Women, eh?” He grinned.

Zami looked over to Mythene, who was grumpily sitting off by herself at the edge of the camp, and looked back to Jazax with a nod.

“Yeah,” He sighed, “Women.”


	89. Instinct

Zami still wasn’t sure what had upset Mythene so, but he decided to give her a wide berth for the next few days. He let Mythene focus on teaching Syrise the fundamentals of becoming a druid. In the meantime, he would venture out into the jungle and observe the native tigers. It was much easier to do it alone, his way. He could simply stealth and take a seat right among the tigers, having found a small family to observe. He hadn’t been able to do so with Syrise, despite her being a fellow rogue capable of stealthing, solely because the blood elf had seemed incapable of ceasing her inane chatter.

Sitting among the tigers had numerous benefits beyond simply watching them from a high perch in the trees. He nearly shuddered as he recalled the height. Firstly, he could see every small gesture clearly. He missed nothing, from the gait of their walk to the way they bumped heads in greeting. Since losing his right eye, his depth perception had been all but nonexistent. The idea of trying to become an archer now was laughable, even more so than it had been before. Another benefit of being amongst the tigers was that he could hear them. The soft roar when they yawned, or the sound almost like purring they made as they would headbutt each other in passing.

Zami had already learned much more in this single afternoon of quiet observation than he had from an entire day with Syrise. As he always found to be true, the task was much easier when done alone. In solitude, he could hear and see everything. He didn’t have to worry about others letting him down or obstructing his objective, no matter how inadvertent their obstruction may be.

Another thing he would’ve never caught from the distance was the smell. He had expected the scent of the tigers to smell similar to a mangy, wet dog. But instead it was a vaguely woody musk, one that reminded him of the soil after a heavy rain. It was not muddy, but hearty. It was natural and wild and---

Zami’s brow shot up as a sudden realization clicked in his mind. That. That was it. The essence of nature that Mythene had gone on about for so long.

He understood everything now, and at once everything changed. Suddenly he became aware of the way the wind rustled through the grass and swayed the leaves on the towering trees. The chittering of the animals became a harmony with the song of the birds, percussed by the cheeping of insects. All at once, the jungle had become alive.

In his awe of everything around him, he hadn’t even realized what was right before him. Not until a deep snarling met his ears. His vision fixated to the scene before him, where the adult tigers had bunched together, closing ranks around their young against the invader. Against him. 

Zami was a hunter all but in name, raised by hunters, with years of experience facing the great cats of this jungle. He understood his situation better than most would. Furrowing his brow, he kept his gaze locked on the tigers. He knew looking away for even a moment would trigger their predatory instincts and they would pounce. He silently cursed as his thoughts gathered. In his distraction, he must’ve dropped his stealth and exposed his presence to the tigers.

He was effectively defenseless, though he considered what few options he had. Sitting on the ground, back to a tree, and greatly outnumbered. It was no time to do anything rash, like try to stand up. That included pulling out his dagger. No, attacking was clearly out of the question. Even if he’d been caught on his feet, he was still greatly outmatched. He’d have to be clever if he was going to make it out alive.

But as bad as the situation may have seemed, Zami still considered himself lucky. Because, fortunately for him, he’d always had a way with animals.

Zami’s one auburn eye locked with the yellowish-green eye of one of the tigers. It was the largest one of the bunch, most likely the patriarch of this small family group. The tiger recognized his gaze as a challenge to his dominance and gave a low growl. A warning to back down. Zami knew he could show no weakness, and so he kept his expression cold and calmed his heartbeat. The tiger growled again, slowly slinking down to the ground. Zami anticipated this and matched the slow gesture with a hand moving to his hip.

Everything from then was a blur. The tiger lept for him, fangs bared and claws outstretched for his flesh. Zami in turn quickly lept up onto his haunches and prayed the loa weren’t going to be fickle with his regeneration again. He leaned his shoulder forward into the attack, throwing his full weight into the tiger. The claws scraped across his skin like razors as the tiger fell back, and Zami landed on top of it. Before the tiger could roll itself back, Zami finally brought his hand up from the hilt of his dagger and moved to bring it down over right between the eyes.

But then something happened that he hadn’t expected. Instead of his own blue hand coming down, it was a paw. It was nearly identical to the ones that had just cut ribbons across his chest, but with one stark difference. The fur was blue.

Zami was so shocked by the situation that he wasn’t brought back to focus until he felt the tiger below him sink its yellowed fangs into the flesh of his shoulder blade. At least, he thought it was a shoulder blade. His eyes flicked down to the wound and saw only bloody blue fur.

Zami hissed in pain and shouted a curse word in Zandali, but all that came out of his own mouth was a deep roar. Acting solely on instinct, Zami’s mouth lurched forward and bit deeply into the throat of the tiger below him. A roar similar to his own followed, and the tiger thrashed wildly. Its claws swiped vigorously, bashing at Zami’s face and body. But Zami didn’t let go, only clenching his jaw tighter. Another roar, and then the thrashing stopped. Zami still lingered for a moment, until the tiger below him had completely stilled, before finally removing his mouth.

He looked down at the tiger below him, and saw that it was dead. Gobs of dark red blood were forming in a puddle on the grass below the tiger’s mangled throat. Zami moved his head down, sniffing at the hot blood curiously. He smelled new things he’d never noticed before, new depths to the blood. It made his stomach feel strange.

Snorting, Zami jerked his head back, moving away from the corpse. His eyes scanned his surroundings, and saw that the rest of the family of tigers were looking back at him warily. Zami was surprised to find he could understand the worry in their expressions. And that they had expressions at all.

Zami looked back at the other tigers, and found that he didn’t feel like he was in harm’s way any longer. He wasn’t the prey anymore. He was the predator. His rough tongue flicked out of his mouth, licking the blood clean from his jowls, and gaze fell upon one of the tiger cubs.

And, suddenly, Zami realized he was very hungry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hits Zami with rolled up newspaper*


	90. Feral

“Thero’shan!” Mythene called, looking around, “Zami!”

“Z!” Syrise called from further ahead in the jungle, “Where are you, you big dumb troll?!”

Mythene pursed her lips tightly at Syrise but didn’t say anything, instead simply calling out for Zami again. It’d been four days since they’d last seen him. Zami had risen up in the morning, made breakfast for the group, and then headed off into the jungle to observe the tigers. By this point, after all she had seen him do, Mythene was quite confident in Zami’s combative skills. Even so, that did not stop her from worrying.

“Zami, buddy!” Jazax called, snapping Mythene from her thoughts, “C’mon, this ain’t funny!”

The goblin then turned and scowled up at Mythene.

“This is all your fault,” He huffed before he turned to continue on.

“Excuse me?” Mythene growled, unable to stop herself from reaching out and grabbing the goblin before he could move away, “How is it my fault that Zami is missing?”

Jazax shimmied away from her grip, scowling even more like her touch was beneath him.

“It’s your fault he was goin’ off on his own everyday,” Jazax explained grumpily, “Said he was tryin’ to give you ‘space’ or whatever.”

“I never requested he do that,” Mythene pointed out, but Jazax just laughed humorlessly.

“Gimme a break, sweetcheeks,” Jazax crossed his arms, “Zami told me all about how you got all worked up over that dumb little statue.”

Mythene frowned upon recalling that night. She hadn’t acted rationally, letting her emotions get the better of her, and ended up snapping at Zami because of it. She knew objectively that it wasn’t his fault, what he’d said and how it had hurt her. He just didn’t know any better. She had already decided she was going to apologize for the outburst and had been working up her nerve to do so, but then he disappeared.

“Ah,” Mythene looked down, “Yes, that…”

That was all she could think to say. At least, to this annoying little pipsqueak. Jazax seemed less than impressed with her comment and snorted.

“Y’know, lady, you really need to quit jerkin’ him around all over the place.”

“Excuse me?” Mythene snapped her head down to glare at the goblin.

“Hey, I’m just saying,” Jazax shrugged, “Would it kill ya to actually let up on the guy a little? I mean, from what I heard, sounds like his whole life’s gone real rough lately. And it don’t sound like you exactly been the greatest girlfriend in the world, either, okay? So let up a little, would ya?”

“Girlfriend? Oh, goodness,” Mythene pinched the bridge of her nose, “This again? What in the name of Elune are you talking about?”

“Oh don’t gimme that,” Jazax waved a hand dismissively, “You know exactly what I’m talkin’ about, lady.”

Mythene huffed then took a deep breath, before neatly folding her hands together in front of her stomach.

“Let me try and make something clear, Mister Boombottle,” She began tersely.

“Oh boy,” Jazax said with a roll of his eyes, pausing to cross his arms, “This oughta be good.”

“I assure you,” She continued on, “Zami is my student, and little else. Likewise, I am his teacher. I am uncertain where you get this foolish notion of anything beyond that, but allow me to clarify that our relationship is strictly professional. I feel no affection whatsoever for---”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jazax cut her off, his purple eyes looking up at her with a bored expression, “Save your breath, sweetcheeks. I heard all this a thousand times before.”

Mythene perked an eyebrow, hardly believing that, but Jazax continued before she could reply.

“Look, if you don’t feel nothin’ then I guess that’s fine. Whatever,” Jazax shrugged, “But you might wanna tell him that, at least. Cause that guy’s got it bad. He just don’t know it yet.”

Mythene froze, blinking down at the goblin. A beat passed, and she lost her opportunity to give a reply within a reasonable amount of time. So rather than attempt to do so, she just turned away. As she walked away, she heard the goblin muttering something about “women” to himself.

“Hold up!” Syrise called from far ahead in the jungle, “Come look at this! I found something!”

Mythene and Jazax approached where Syrise was crouched down. She looked up as the others approached, blonde brow furrowed.

“What do you guys make of this?” She asked, gesturing a leather gloved hand ahead.

A group of tigers lay dead, all but one of them were ripped apart. Some of them were juvenile. There were bite marks here and there, but most of the flesh, albeit rotted, was intact. Old brown blood seeped into the grass in a large pool, and the smell was absolutely putrid. Wrinkling her nose, Mythene stepped back and set her hand under her nose.

“Jeez,” Jazax mumbled as he looked around at the carnage, “Talk about a massacre, eh?”

“It doesn’t add up,” Syrise frowned as she swatted away some flies, “The meat’s still here, and the skins too. Even the cubs weren’t spared.”

“Must’ve been an animal,” Jazax suggested, and Mythene thought about it.

“I suppose it could’ve been a territorial dispute,” She said as she tapped her chin, trying to remember what she knew about nightsabers from Daras, “This does look like a whole family.”

“Back when I was a Farstrider, we sometimes had trouble with the springpaw lynxes getting territorial. But it was never like this. They’d pick off the leader and then take the females and cubs for themselves. Not slaughter them.”

“So what’s this supposed to be then, huh?” Jazax asked.

Syrise tapped her chin a moment.

“Well...” She began slowly, ”My best guess would be an invader.”

“Invader?” Mythene perked an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“An invasive predator,” Syrise explained, “A newcomer to the environment trying to figure out where they fit into the food chain.”

“So, what, this thing’s just gonna kill everything in its path until it gets beaten?” Jazax asked.

“Most likely,” Syrise nodded.

“Sounds like trouble,” The goblin sighed.

Mythene approached where the tiger cubs laid, crouching down next to them sadly. Her eyes watered a little, mostly from the vile smell but a little from the pain in her heart.

“Be with Elune, dorei,” She said quietly, “Ande’thoras’ethil.”

Mythene bowed her head briefly before standing up. She froze at what she saw. As far as the eye could see, more corpses of tigers, panthers, raptors, and even a few crocolisks. The land was stained a brownish red path of blood. Syrise approached beside her, following her gaze, and frowned.

“Jeez, I hope Z didn’t end up on the wrong side of this thing,” She mumbled.

Mythene glanced over at the sin'dorei briefly, when a terrible, terrible thought occurred to her.

“...The corpses make a path,” She said calmly, “We should follow it to this...creature.”

“What?” Are you crazy?” Jazax looked up at her before wheeling over to Syrise to proclaim, “She’s crazy!”

“She has a point, Jazzy,” Syrise shrugged, “This beast, whatever it is, isn’t gonna stop until somebody kills it.”

“Oh jeez, you’re both crazy!” Jazax covered his face with his hands.

Mythene glanced aside uncertainly. Her intention wasn’t anything like that. She looked over at the other two for a moment, before coming to a resolve.

“Aw, come on, Jazzy,” Syrise poked his cheek, “It’ll be fun!”

“No way!” Jazax swatted her hand away, “This is gonna be suicide!”

“Oh, please, it’ll be fine! It’s just an animal, nothing we can’t handle,” Syrise grinned, “Come on, back me up here, kaldorei!”

Syrise turned toward Mythene when she got no response and blinked in surprise, seeing only empty air where the night elf had once stood.


	91. Breathe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it was recently brought to my attention that some readers would like to know more about Syrise, as they feel she’s underdeveloped compared to the others. While I do plan on showing a great deal more of her backstory later in Boombottle, once Jazax meets her, I think it could be interesting to show her thoughts about what’s going on right now. Counting Boombottle, everyone else in the main party has been given a chance to show their perspective or at least their general mindset. And so I’ve decided to do something unique for this chapter.

Syrise angrily strode ahead through the jungle, shoving branches out of her way and not caring that they’d smack into Jazax behind her on the recoil. She was pissed. First Zami disappeared, and now the kaldorei too. What next, Jazax? No, of course not Jazax. That goblin would probably haunt her for the rest of her life.

“Oi, would you slow down?” Jazax called from behind her, spitting out some leaves, “You got me at an unfair advantage with those legs for days.”

Syrise impatiently stopped short and Jazax tumbled into her knee as a result. She turned to glare down at the goblin, her green eyes blazing with indignation.

“What is that idiot thinking? Running off without us?” Syrise hissed, “She’s going to get herself killed by that beast!”

Before Jazax could respond, Syrise angrily turned forward again and continued the march. Behind her, Jazax gave a drawn out sigh before hurrying to stick close behind her. They continued on with no further pauses until they reached the campsite. Zami’s raptor raised her head upon hearing them return and her eyes darted about hopefully for a glimpse of her master. When she found none, her head lowered back down to the ground sadly. Beside her, the shrunken lasher hissed softly and nudged itself against the raptor in a sympathetic gesture. Syrise winced, seeing the spikes brush the raptor’s skin, but they were apparently unable to penetrate her thick hide.

“So what now?” Jazax looked up at Syrise, “We ain’t just gonna wait around and hope they come back, right?”

“Of course not,” Syrise huffed, pinching the bridge of her nose, “Just let me think a minute.”

“Yeah, well, don’t hurt yourself.”

Syrise paused to scowl over at Jazax and then she got an idea.

“Ah! The raptor!” She said as she wheeled around to face Aka, “We can use the raptor to track Zami, like she did before!”

“Oh, yeah! Yeah, that’ll work,” Jazax nodded, before unenthusiastically adding, “Oh, right. What about about Mythene?”

Syrise paused to think about it. She noticed Jazax and Mythene didn’t really seem to like each other much, though she knew from experience that it was just like that with Jazax. Everybody hated him to begin with, but he’d gradually grow on them. Like some kind of fungus. 

As for Mythene, Syrise had been rather surprised to find she actually enjoyed the night elf’s company pretty much right off the bat. She’d never really called a kaldorei likeable before. They were always too uppity and full of themselves. Mythene seemed these things too, at first glance, but it had been clear to Syrise that it was all a facade. Even back on the boat, she could see it. Mythene was clearly just playing the role anticipated of her. Syrise was experienced at putting on a show, and she could easily recognize it in the other elf. It made her feel a sort of kinship.

And so that was why she frowned as she reached a conclusion.

“There’s nothing we can do,” Syrise sighed, “As soon as she left us, her fate became her own. We can only focus on finding Zami right now.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Jazax agreed with a nod, “Though Zami won’t be happy when he finds out she’s gone.”

“No, he really won’t,” Syrise said with a shake of her head, “But he’ll be fine. He’s no stranger to loss.”

Syrise then moved over towards Aka, crouching down beside the raptor.

“Hey, girl,” She said as she reached out and pet the raptor’s nose in her best imitation of Zami’s gesture, “We gotta ask another favor of you.”

Aka cracked open an eye, looking up at Syrise inquisitively.

“We’re gonna need you to track down Zami again,” Syrise explained, and the raptor sat up abruptly at the mention of her master’s name, causing the lasher to go flying.

Aka wheeled her head, again looking for the troll, and slumped a little before turning her attention back to Syrise. A beat passed before she seemed to process Syrise’s prior statement and the raptor rose up onto its legs, sniffing at the air. 

“Ow! Ow! Ow!” Jazax groaned as he batted at Zeni uncomfortably, “This thing is gonna put somebody’s eye out!”

The panicked lasher was confused and startled from having gotten flung through the air, and it had crashed right into Jazax’s face. Now it hugged his face, shaking nervously, and completely obstructing his view. Blood dripped from where the thorns were pressing increasingly-deep into his green skin. Syrise shook her head in amusement, watching the goblin flail around in pain, and approached him.

“Now we know what really happened to Z’s eye,” Syrise chuckled as she crouched down beside the goblin, “Hold still while I get it off.”

“Hurry up, would ya?!” Jazax whined, causing Syrise to roll her eyes.

“So impatient,” She tsked before reaching out to gingerly bring her gloved hands under the lasher’s vine body, careful to avoid grasping the thorns.

She gave an experimental tug to the lasher, and in its panicked state, it latched even deeper into Jazax.

“Stop, stop!” Jazax flailed his arms at her, trying to push her away.

Syrise furrowed her brow, relinquishing her grasp to cross her arms over her chest.

“Well what do you want me to do then?” She shrugged, “Just leave it?”

“No,” Jazax replied, quickly and forcefully, “Definitely not.”

“Then just hold still and quit being a baby,” Syrise huffed, uncrossing her arms.

She reached out and took a hold of the lasher, giving another tug, this one a little bit more forceful than the last. Again it had the opposite of the desired effect, and the lasher all but implanted itself in Jazax’s face. In response, the goblin howled in pain, his arms flailing uselessly.

“Don’t!” He managed to bat his hands out at Syrise when she went to pull again, “This ain’t working!”

“I can see that, Jazzy,” Syrise drawled, “But what do you want me to do?”

“I...I dunno! Just...just calm it down or something!” Jazax suggested, his voice strained and frantic.

Syrise frowned a moment, when a thought occurred to her. She brought her gloved hands up to the underside of the lasher’s little flower, recalling a trick from her days as a Farstrider. She began to gently stroke her thumb along the length of the flower petals, beginning to hum softly. The lasher stopped shaking, but didn’t release its grip, so Syrise began to sing quietly with her soothing melody, continuing to stroke the flower petals.

“Sinu a’manore, sinu a’amanore, ana thalas’dorei,” She sang softly, “Endala shala, endala shala, fallah anaria endala.”

Slowly, as she repeated the gentle melody, the lasher’s grip on Jazax loosened. Syrise lowered her hands and gently tugged the lasher away. This time, it allowed itself to be removed easily, hissing pleasantly as Syrise took the lasher in her palms. She smiled down at it, quieting her song to a simple hum then gently set the lasher on the back of the raptor. At least its thorns couldn’t hurt her, she thought.

Syrise watched as the lasher snuggled up against the raptor, who continued to sniff at the air, before turning her attention back to Jazax. She froze slightly when she realized the goblin was just staring at her, his expression something like awe or reverence. The intensity of his gaze suddenly made her feel self-conscious and Syrise cleared her throat, a faint blush on her cheeks. What was he looking at her like that for?

“Jeez,” She sighed, making him blink at last.

“Huh? What?”

“Your face,” She mumbled uncomfortably.

“Oh, right,” Jazax said, as though he just remembered he was injured, “How’s it look?”

Syrise was glad he didn’t catch the actual meaning of her words, and shifted her focus to examining his wounds.

“Well, you’re no uglier than usual,” She chuckled, quickly retaking her usual demeanor, “If anything, it’s an improvement.”

“If you think I’m more handsome this way, I’m almost tempted to leave it,” Jazax grinned, “But I guess even you ain’t worth an infection, sweetie.”

Syrise rolled her eyes, playing her required role, and stood up.

“Jeez, just hurry up and heal yourself, Jazzy,” Syrise sighed emphatically, before turning to pat the raptor, “We’ve got us a troll to find.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Syrise's song in Thalassian translates to "Well met, well met, you child of the forest. Breathe safe, breathe safe, balance your breathing.'


	92. Remember

Mythene ran as fast as her legs could carry her, sprinting past corpse after corpse. Dread welled up inside of her, practically strangling away her ability to breathe properly

“Please, oh please,” She whispered to herself between pants, “Not again!”

The corpses gradually grew fresher and warmer, and Mythene began to slow her pace. She knew she must be getting close. She paused to look about as she realized she was somewhere deep within the jungle. There was no sign of a road or path. She was utterly lost. With a quick shake of her head, she began to follow the trail of carcasses again. There would be time to worry about that later. Right now, time was of the essence.

As if to reinforce her thoughts, a shrill scream suddenly broke out into the jungle. Mythene at once picked up her pace to a sprint again, running in the direction of the scream. It didn’t follow the trail of corpses, but she had a bad feeling the result would be the same.

Sure enough, when Mythene darted into the clearing, it was just as she had anticipated. A large blue tiger, far larger than a typical one, was overtop of a human woman. His jaws were trapped against the woman’s quarterstaff, which she’d shoved forward into his mouth.

“Hold on!” Mythene shouted in Common, sliding down to the ground quickly.

She plunged her fingers into the mossy soil, and a moment later, thick green vines shot up from the ground. They ensnared tightly around the tiger, holding him back and allowing the woman to wriggle away. She looked at Mythene in thanks, rising to her feet and readying herself into an offensive stance with the staff.

“No! Wait!” Mythene shouted, hurrying over, but she wasn’t quick enough.

The human, apparently a mage, sent a fireball at the tiger. Mythene muttered under her breath and quickly stepped in the way of the flames, her skin becoming like tree bark for a moment. The mage looked at her in surprise, but took a step back in fear as the vines began to snap.

Mythene glanced back over her shoulder and realized casting barkskin must’ve broken her concentrated cast of the entangling roots. She only had time to turn around before the tiger, now freed, leapt for her throat. In a move more desperate than she would’ve liked, Mythene dove off to the side, narrowly dodging the attack.

She quickly leapt to her feet, holding out a hand to the tiger. He turned to face her and snarled. Mythene looked into his eyes and all her remaining doubt was gone. One of the tiger’s eyes was the color of amber, and the other was green.

“I know it’s you, thero’shan,” She said slowly, going back to speaking Orcish for his sake.

The tiger snarled again, slinking down slightly in warning. Out of the corner of her eye, Mythene saw the human mage back away out of the clearing. Good, she thought. At least then, if her attempts failed, the human would be spared. She then focused her attention back to the tiger in front of her.

“You must remember who you are,” She continued, trying to keep her voice steady, “Your mind is being overwhelmed by your new animal instincts.”

She searched his eyes for some kind of recognition or at least familiarity, but found neither. It made dread well up inside of her again. No, not again. Not again…

“Thero’shan…” She frowned, “Zami, please, you must remember.”

The tiger didn’t even so much as flinch in recognition of his name, which brought back a familiar old pain, and that was it. That was the moment she had been dreading so: the moment when she knew he was truly gone.

“I’m sorry,” She whispered as tears began to fall, sinking down to the ground, “I should’ve been with you. I should’ve been there to help you.”

The tiger only growled in response, beginning to stalk towards her. Mythene just lowered her head. She had failed. Again. What were the odds it would happen to her again? Was this a punishment from Elune for her arrogance? For her prejudice? Or perhaps it was just a cruel joke on her behalf? Whatever it was, it was more than she could bear, and so she waited silenttly, as the tiger drew closer. She held her breath as the tiger stood before her, sniffing at her curiously. Then it moved its fangs for her face, and she closed her eyes. 

“I’m so sorry,” She whispered once more, content for that to be her dying words.

Then something she hadn’t anticipated happened.

The tiger’s rough tongue lapped against her cheek, over her tears. Mythene opened her eyes quickly, looking down at the tiger in confusion, and gasped. His eyes. They were foggy, and confused, but still there. He was still there.

“Zami?” She gasped, sitting up quickly, “Are you in there?”

The tiger just blinked back at her, but that was enough. Mythene brought her hands to the sides of the tiger’s face, and stared back at him intensely.

“Dalah thero’shan,” She said firmly, “Remember who you are. You are a troll, and you’re not savage at all. Your name is Zami. You are a druid, though you used to be an assassin, and you are my student now. You’re learning to speak Darnassian. You have an annoying brother and even more annoying friends. You hate banana bread. Remember, please. Please...”

She saw the moment the glimmer of recognition appeared in his eyes and she couldn’t help throwing her arms around the tiger.

“Oh, thank Elune!” She sighed as she hugged the tiger tightly, “Thank Elune…”

She felt the tiger shift in her arms, and a moment later, she was hugging a troll. The notion in itself was objectively absurd, but she was too relieved to care for propriety at the moment. Over her shoulder, Zami groaned.

“Ugh.. .huh? What… where am I?” He grumbled, “Mi’ten…?”

“Yes, it’s me,” She nodded, “And you’re you again.”

“Again…? Huh? What’cha talkin’ about?”

Zami tried to sit up, but Mythene had no intentions to release him. He cleared his throat awkwardly, still oblivious to the situation. He waited a moment before trying to pull away again, but she still refused to let go. That had been too close for her liking.

“Hey, uh, Mi’ten?” He asked as he cleared his throat again, “Why are you---”

“I thought you were lost,” She admitted quietly, “I thought I would have to kill you, just like before.”

“Huh?” Zami tried to turn to look at her, “Before? What’cha---”

Mythene tightened her grip even more, making Zami cough as she practically squeezed the air out of his lungs.

“Yes, before,” She whispered, tears beginning to well in her eyes once more, “Back when I had to kill Enerion.”


	93. Blameless

Zami listened quietly as Mythene recounted what had happened, his expression growing increasingly dour as she went on. His primary concern was regarding the fact that, when he thought about it, he could recall everything with pristine clarity. He could see himself wreaking havoc on the wildlife of Stranglethorn with reckless abandon. Yet he couldn’t remember his thoughts of the entire time. It was as though he was a captive inside his own body, and someone else had been doing the thinking for him.

“And that’s when I realized it,” Mythene continued, “It was just like when my brother lost control.”

Zami nodded a little, unsure how to respond, and just stared down at his bloodstained hands instead. Mythene went to speak but stopped herself upon seeing his gaze. She furrowed her brow for a moment before reaching out, setting her hand atop his.

“Don’t blame yourself, thero’shan,” She said firmly, “If anything, the fault is mine.”

Zami glanced up at her, chuckling tiredly.

“I’m gonna need to start wearin’ a mask round you, woman,” He sighed, knowing she must’ve read his thoughts from his expression.

Mythene just gave him a slight smile, squeezing his hand supportively. Then she pulled it away, and Zami bit back the instinct to protest. Yet before he could even say anything, Mythene pulled out her waterskin and a lavender handkerchief.

“Let’s get that blood off,” She said quietly, soaking the handkerchief.

She grasped one of his wrists, pulling his hand into her lap, and gently wiped away the dried blood. Zami glanced aside, feeling his face heat up slightly, despite his conscious mind trying to dissuade such. It was nothing more than a pragmatic effort, he reminded himself. Her gentleness was probably just in case he happened to be injured. Nevermind that he would’ve regenerated by now. It was certainly not an intentionally tender gesture. Certainly not.

“Other hand,” Mythene commanded, relinquishing her grip of the now-clean hand.

Zami obediently swapped one hand for the other, clearing his throat quietly. He tried to just clear his mind, and ignore the fact that he and Mythene were essentially holding hands. His face heated up a little more, and he could tell he wasn’t doing a good job of it. Seeing that ignoring the situation was a futile effort, his eye moved over to watch her work. That way he’d be able to pull his hand back as soon as possible.

He did just that once the last blood was wiped away with such a haste that an outside observer might’ve thought her touch physically burned him. Zami was embarrassed by the blatant hastiness, but if Mythene thought anything of it, she didn’t show it. Instead she just rinsed the blood away from the handkerchief, calmly squeezing out the excess water.

Zami didn’t want to seem ungrateful for her kindness, pragmatic in nature or otherwise, and went to voice his thanks but Mythene turned to him first and leaned forward. Zami froze, feeling his heart skip a beat as her face drew closer to his, and her hand moved up to his cheek. Before he knew what was happening, she reached up and wiped at his mouth with the damp handkerchief.

That was when Zami realized, retroactively, that he must’ve had blood on his face too. He couldn’t help frowning, and by the way Mythene glanced up at him briefly right after, he figured she probably already knew what he was thinking. She didn’t say anything, however, and simply continued to clean his face.

Zami usually hated being touched, especially his face, but this was the second time now that he’d freely let Mythene do just that. Even if she was doing it solely for practical reasons, her touch was so gentle that Zami found it wasn’t unpleasant at all, especially when compared to how his mother had done it. She would always grasp him by the tusk, rubbing a rough rag all over his face and blocking his ability to breathe. By comparison, Mythene was practically caressing him.

“You may not remember,” Mythene began suddenly, “But when I found you, you were attacking a human. A mage, I believe.”

Zami blinked, his thoughts coming back to focus. He went to respond, but was unsure what he wanted to even say. Sorry, maybe?

“I’m glad I got here in time,” Mythene said quietly, “If you had killed her, I would’ve been honorbound to…”

She trailed off a moment, before shaking her head slightly.

“You see, once a feral shapeshifter becomes a maneater, they can never fully regain themselves. Not as they once were,” She explained, “The Cenarion Circle has tried, several times, to recover such druids but they are always lost. Maddened, their minds forever overtaken by their animalistic urges.”

Zami glanced down, knowing what she was getting at. If he’d crossed that line, she would’ve had to kill him without hesitation. Whether his mind was still there or not.

“It isn’t very common,” She continued, “But I suppose that is because most new druids first shapeshift under the close guidance of their teachers.”

Mythene’s expression darkened and Zami found himself able to truly understand what she was thinking for the first time. She went to pull away but he quickly brought his hand up over hers, trapping her with the bloody handkerchief pressed up against his cheek.

“If I don’t get to blame myself, then you don’t neither,” He frowned, “Teacher or not.”

Mythene frowned back, but her arm slackened a bit, her efforts to pull away extinguished. Zami gave her hand a supportive squeeze, echoing the gesture she’d done earlier. Her glowing white gaze met his, and Zami felt himself take a sharp breath. The two of them just stared at each other a moment, her with her hand on his cheek, and him holding her hand there. It was only in that moment Zami noticed how close her face really was. Depth perception wasn’t his area of expertise, after all, but even so. In fact, it almost seemed like she was getting even closer. Much more and they’d be…

A sudden crashing in the nearby trees made the both of them jump away from each other, shocked and panicked and already in a deep state of denial. Zami barely had enough time to tear his gaze away from Mythene before he was tackled. Aka dove headfirst into his stomach, knocking out the breath he’d been holding. Taking another breath was impossible, as a familiar Sin’dorei arm hugged around his throat. Zeni latched onto his newly-cleaned face, quickly replacing the cleaned blood as its thorns dug deep. The feeling in his left leg went numb, too, as a certain sniveling goblin hugged him in a vice grip and wiped his nose against him. 

And as uncomfortable as it all was, Zami couldn’t help but grin.


	94. Disarmed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to clarify and set the record straight, as I might’ve used other names in the past. But Zin’aka was a Bloodsail Buccaneer, not a Southsea Freebooter. I might’ve said Southsea in the past but I meant Bloodsail.

Zami propped his chin up on his hand, watching the scene far beyond the fire with amusement. Ever since they had arrived back at camp, Syrise had not let up on Mythene once, scolding her for running off alone or not telling the others about the situation. Zami chuckled, recalling many times where he’d been on the receiving end of such a lecture himself. His independent nature clashed pretty spectacularly with Syrise’s need to work within a structured group. Maybe it was her time as a Farstrider or something, but she really didn’t like solo work. And she was presently letting Mythene hear all about it.

Zami couldn’t help but grin as he watched, and not a moment later, he heard snickering from beside him. Zami glanced over, looking down at Jazax, who was smirking up at him.

“Jeez, you just can’t help yourself, huh?” Jazax chuckled, “You really do got it bad, man.”

Zami rolled his eye and huffed, but offered no real verbal disagreement. At this point, how could he? After all that’d happened, denying it now just seemed stupid.

“Ugh, what’s da point,” He grumbled, resting his chin a little more firmly against his hand, “Maybe ya right, I dunno.”

“Wait, what?” Jazax blinked, almost doing a double take, “Hey, wait, really?”

Zami just shrugged grumpily, though he wasn’t exactly sure why he was grumpy about it.

“Ya know it's been weeks since I dreamed of Zin’aka? It’s like I just up and forgot about her, or something.”

“Who? Oh, right, that pirate. Eh, who cares?” Jazax shrugged nonchalantly, “She’s dead, right?”

Zami shot a look over at the goblin, who just shrugged again.

“Look, I’m just saying, what’s the use in just sittin’ around and dwellin’ about the past?” Jazax looked forward, watching Syrise continue to scold Mythene, “I mean, I had a wife for cryin’ out loud. But you don’t see me whinin’ about it.”

“Anymore,” Zami quipped, earning him an elbow to the side.

“Look, why bother hangin’ onto some dead lady? It ain’t like she was some kinda catch, anyway. I mean, c’mon! She chose to become a Bloodsail!”

Zami chuckled tiredly. He knew the goblin had an innate preference for the Blackwater Raiders, having lived in Booty Bay for so long. Unlike himself, Jazax had always gotten along well with the Baron. It was probably because they were both goblins, although he always found it peculiar that the Baron seemed to hold some kind of respect for Jazax. Zami didn’t have the slightest clue what Jazax, of all people, could’ve done to win the respect of the pirate, but then it wasn’t really any of his business.

“Hey, you should probably go save her,” Jazax elbowed him, “Syrise is still yammerin’ at her, and we both know she won’t stop talkin’ unless somebody stops her.”

Zami was about to make a joke in response, but froze at once when he heard rustling in the bushes outside of their camp. He held up a hand, drawing silence from Jazax. He tried to listen, but Syrise was still chiding Mythene in the background, and it was too hard to hear clearly. He was too far from her to tell to be quiet.

Luckily, Aka suddenly rose her head, her hearing far better than all of theirs. She immediately leapt up, sniffing the air momentarily before growling loudly. Syrise paused mid-sentence to look over at the raptor. The sound of a snapping twig made all of them stiffen. Zami drifted his hand to his hip, Mythene moved a hand back to reach for her staff, and Syrise took a deep breath.

Everything that happened next was too quick, too precise. Four large bears, fur in varying shades of grey and brown, their bodies decorated with feathers, leapt from the bushes. One bear leapt onto Mythene, knocking her down, towered over her. Zami couldn’t see what happened next, as two bears charged him. He fell back to the ground, but used the momentum to draw his dagger. The bear that managed to pin overtop of him almost immediately slumped forward, the dagger shoved deep enough into the bear’s eye that Zami knew it must’ve reached the brain. 

He only had time to pull the bloody dagger free before the bear’s corpse crushed him. He panicked momentarily, looking up at the other bear, which was now furious. But then the corpse atop him grew lighter, its body shifting into that of a night elven man with dark blue hair. 

It was as he suspected then. They were druids.

The bear in front of him roared, and swiped its claws down, but Zami used the corpse as a shield. In response, the bear roared even more viciously. Zami then tried to angle the knife into the bear’s eye, as he’d done before, but this other bear was having none of that. It stepped back, allowing him to miss, and then lurched forward again. Its powerful jaws clamped around his arm so tightly that Zami couldn’t help dropping the knife. He hissed in pain, but that was nothing in comparison to what was coming.

The bear stepped forward, gently brushing aside the corpse with its paw, before bringing it down forcefully against Zami’s chest. He coughed, the air forced from his lungs, and he could feel the bear’s claws digging deep into his skin. The force against his chest made it hard to take another breath, and for a second, he thought the druid intended to suffocate him. But no, it was certainly much worse.

The paw on his chest pressed more firmly, keeping his back pinned against the ground. Then the bear’s jaw around his forearm clenched a little tighter, making spurts of hot blood trickle all the way down to his shoulder. Zami ground his teeth, not wanting to give this druid the satisfaction of hearing his pain. Besides, he knew it’d regenerate.

But then the bear looked down at him with such a seething hatred that, for a moment, Zami felt a shiver of terror down his spine. Dread sunk deeply into him and it was only when his eye widened with realization that the druid acted. The bear clenched its grip on his arm, and then threw back its powerful head with such great force that there was a loud, wet snap.

Zami stared up in shock, unable to hear anything but his own rapid heartbeat. His entire body had grown numb due to a lack of breathing, and in the back of his mind, he was grateful for that. Because, had he felt it, he was pretty sure he would’ve lost consciousness. Clenched between the bear’s teeth, hanging limply, was his own arm.

The weight suddenly was removed from his chest, as the bear stepped back. It threw the now-useless arm aside, sadistic triumph in its yellow eyes. Zami instinctively swallowed deep breaths, even though he knew what would come as a result of it. Tingling sensations returned, and soon the pain. The pain. The unbearable pain.

Zami’s vision became blurry and he groaned, feeling his willpower crumble away as the pain increased. He rapidly looked around him, seeing his allies getting overwhelmed. He tried to move, tried to call out to them, but his body was quickly growing beyond his control. The pain was immobilizing. 

In frustration, Zami then looked up at the bear, but it wasn’t a bear anymore. It was a night elven woman with green hair. She had turned away from him, holding the corpse laid beside him.

“Bhallorn!” She called as she shook the corpse, “Surfal! Dalah’surfal!”

Zami frowned, his expression softening as he watched her slump forward and sob over the corpse, holding it close. He took a ragged breath, thinking for a moment. He was pretty sure he was delirious from the pain. It was definitely a terrible idea, but he wasn’t thinking clearly at the moment.

“An...Ande…” He mumbled weakly, “Ande’alor?”

The night elf stiffened upon hearing him, looking back over her shoulder. Tears ran freely down her face. Before she could respond, a shadow cast over the both of them. The night elf looked up, seeing a white-haired night elf. She looked just like Mythene, Zami noted bitterly. Except for the two blood red markings on her cheeks.


	95. Trapped

“Stranglethorn, hm?” Syrene chuckled in Orcish as she leaned back against the wall of the ship’s hold, crossing her arms, “All this time, we’ve been overturning every stone in Kalimdor. And you’ve been hiding in the Eastern Kingdoms.”

She shook her head in amusement, as the druids finished strapping Zami’s metal cage into place. He had been placed in the farthest right corner of the back, unable to even see Mythene in the other corner. Jazax sat in the cage directly between them, looking exceptionally cross. Syrise was nowhere to be seen, and Zami silently hoped she’d managed to escape capture.

“Hey, I dunno what’s goin’ on here, lady,” Jazax growled, “But if you think you’re gonna sell a highly-respected member of the Steamwheedle Cartel into slavery, you got another thing coming!”

Syrene paused, glancing over in disinterest at Jazax.

“You just wait til they hear about this back in Booty Bay!” He continued, “Slavery is Cartel turf, lady! You can’t just cut in on the profits and expect to get off scot-free!”

Syrene casually stared at Jazax for another minute before looking at one of the nearby druids.

“Why is there a mouthy goblin here?” She asked in Darnassian, massaging her temple, “I have no need for a goblin.”

“Hey!” Jazax bristled, “Who you callin’ mouthy, you dumb broad?!”

Syrenee paused, perhaps surprised the goblin understood Darnassian. Zami was a little surprised, too, but he supposed it made sense. The Cartel was a neutral party, and they’d probably had night elven clients before.

“Ah, how amusing,” Syrene smiled, returning to Orcish, walking over to Jazax’s cage and leaning down, “It chitters like a little monkey, yet it speaks words like a parrot. Perhaps I should keep you as my little pet when my business with your compatriots is through.”

Jazax scowled, looking at her flatly.

“I ain’t little,” He sniffled, “I’m fun-sized.”

“I’m sure,” Syrene sneered, standing up and looking over at a nearby druid, “Kill the goblin.”

The druid nodded, taking the bow off of his back, and aimed it straight for Jazax’s head. Zami flinched, and the pain from his severed arm was too intense for him to even say anything. The arrow flew at Jazax, but suddenly stopped mid-air, hovering in front of him. The archer blinked in surprise, Zami cocked his head to the side, and Syrene perked an eyebrow. Even Jazax seemed confused. Slowly, the arrow turned around in the air, before shooting back out of the cage. It lodged deeply into the druid’s throat, striking him dead at once, and the corpse fell back against the floorboards.

As some other druids hurriedly hauled the corpse away, Syrene narrowed her eyes and stepped forward again. She peered into the cage, eyes scanning every inch of it. Zami recalled how she had seen him stealthed back in the Grimtotem camp, and perked an eyebrow. She clearly saw nothing this time, because she scoffed and turned away.

“Nevermind the goblin,” She waved a hand dismissively, speaking in Darnassian, “Now, what news of the other troll? Have you found him yet?”

Zami looked up in recognition, realizing she was talking about Zalu, but quickly lowered his head again. It probably wouldn’t be a good idea to let her know he could understand her words.

“Nothing yet, High Priestess,” One of the druids bowed.

“I see,” Syrene sighed, nodding her head once, “Keep searching, he cannot have gone f---”

“PRIESTESS?!” Mythene suddenly screeched, making everybody within audible range jump with surprise.

Syrene turned around, to face what he knew was Mythene.

“You dare?” Mythene seethed, “You dare call yourself such a thing!? Have you no shame?!”

Syrene’s surprise quickly turned to annoyance and she rolled her eyes.

“Oh, spare me the theatrics, sister,” Syrene sighed.

“You are no sister of mine!” Mythene growled, and Zami could hear her banging against her cell, “You are a fiend! A traitor to our people and all that we stand for! You should be ashamed of what you’ve become! Deceiver! Madwoman! False prophet! Traitor!”

Syrene listened to Mythene’s tirade impatiently, crossing her arms across her chest. When Mythene was finished, she laughed.

“Come now, come now,” Syrene chuckled, “This has nothing to do with any of that. You’re just jealous of me.”

“Jealous?!” Mythene hissed, “Pray tell! What of yours could I possibly be jealous of?!”

Syrene shrugged, holding her arms out.

“Oh, don’t be duplicitous,” She smiled, “It must kill you. You hate it, don’t you? That you will never be a priestess of anything. Just a little archdruid.”

Mythene was silent, and Zami wished he could see her. He knew Mythene was touchy about that priestess stuff, and he was pretty sure her sister’s words were starting to make it clear why his previous comment had offended her so. Especially after what he learned about her brother. It was suddenly all too clear. She didn’t even want to be a druid, did she?

“Jeez, would you quit the family drama stuff?” Jazax snorted, “Just let us go already, and maybe I’ll encourage the Cartel to look the other way on your slaving.”

Syrene looked down at Jazax before smirking.

“Your little enchantment will not last forever, goblin,” She sneered, “And once it falls, your head will roll.”

Jazax just snorted, looking unimpressed by her threat.

“In the meantime,” Syrene continued, turning to the nearby druid again, “Keep searching. The brother cannot have gotten far.”

For the first time since they’d separated, Zami was quietly glad that Zalu had gone off with Jumi. At least he’d been able to avoid capture because of it. He still wasn’t quite sure what the Emerald Coven even wanted of them, though he knew it involved his eye. He wondered if it was in Gonk’s, or whoever’s, plan for the brothers to go separate ways. Perhaps to avoid this exact situation? Then again, Gonk had said before that he had nothing to do with any of this Emerald Seer business. 

Still, he knew that someone had to be behind it all. And he had an uncanny feeling that everything thus far was going exactly according to their plan.


	96. The Joke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some fun references to Boombottle in this chapter :)

It was about two weeks before the ship finally stopped moving, judging by the cycles of the rats. Zami had made the voyage from Booty Bay to Ratchet enough times to know something was odd about their course. It took too long. His suspicions were confirmed when the three cages were wheeled out from the darkness of the hold. He recognized the grey, miserable fog as soon as he looked around, and no doubt so did Mythene. It was Darkshore.

They weren’t stopped at a real port, just a rocky outcrop not far from the actual shoreline. Apparently Auberdine had been hit hard by the Cataclysm, according to what he’d overheard the elvish crew murmuring. Indeed, the coast did look a bit more… rough than he remembered. Then again, it had been a very long time since he’d been this far north of Ashenvale.

Zami glanced beside him as his cage was set up against Jazax’s. The goblin had been oddly quiet throughout the trip, and Zami was pretty sure he’d even heard him talking to himself a few times. It was concerning, but nowhere near how concerned he was for Mythene. While Jazax had been uncharacteristically quiet, Mythene had been uncharacteristically noisy. She spat insult after insult every time her sister stepped foot in the hold. After a few days, Syrene stopped bothering to even show up. That quieted Mythene, but he could still catch bits and pieces of her grumbling to herself now and again.

Above all else, Zami was most concerned for his arm. Or rather, lack thereof. It didn’t grow back, but it did stop hurting. And that was worrying. He didn’t want it to heal as a little useless nub. He wanted his arm back. He’d spent many of the long hours silently sitting in his cage praying that the Loa would regenerate his arm. After all, what use was he to anyone without it? Yet two weeks passed, and nothing had regrown. It was alarming, to say the least.

Maybe his arm would grow back all green, like his eye had. He could only hope. Sure, a green arm wasn’t ideal, but it was certainly better than no arm. And so he kept hoping, against all odds. Yet now that the voyage had reached its end, he felt like so too had his hope. Maybe it wouldn’t grow back at all.

“Are the prisoners ready for transport?” Syrene asked a nearby druid in Darnassian as she strode onto the deck.

“Yes, High Priestess,” The druid bowed.

Mythene snarled at the title, but refrained from speaking. It seemed she could feel the heaviness in the air, too.

“And what of the raptor?” She asked.

Zami did his best not to look up in surprise.

“Sedated and ready for transport as well, High Priestess,” The druid bowed again.

Zami couldn’t help clenching his jaw upon hearing the druid speak. How dare they treat his raptor like such.

“Excellent,” Syrene nodded, “It will make a wonderful sacrifice.”

At this, Zami felt like he’d been punched in the gut, but kept his stony expression.

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Jazax spoke up, in Darnassian as rough as his Orcish, “What’s this about a sacrifice, huh?”

“Ah, the goblin,” Syrene clicked her tongue, “I had nearly forgotten.”

Syrene turned sharply, looking him over with disinterest, and then turned back to the druid.

“Push it overboard, would you?”

Jazax’s eyes widened as some of the druids started to push his cage towards the edge of the ship.

“Whoa, hey, uh,” He cleared his throat, glancing down at the dark water, “Let’s, uh, not be hasty now, huh?”

“Sister…” Mythene hissed in a tone of warning, “Don’t you dare.”

Syrene ignored the words of both of them, simply waving her hand at the druids to push on. The edge of the cage just passed over the edge of the deck when Zami heard the distinctive sound of a rogue’s stealth dropping. In an instant, everyone froze. His eye moved away from the druids to their leader, and he couldn’t help but grin.

Syrise was standing closely behind Syrene, one arm pinning the night elf to her, and the other holding a dagger against her purple throat. He had no idea where she’d come from, maybe she’d been hiding on board this whole time. Either way, he’d never been happier to see her.

“Let them go,” Syrise said firmly, in choppy Darnassian, “Or I will kill you.”

The druids looked at their leader uncertainly, holding onto the cage around Jazax. They were so still that they may as well have been statues.

“A rogue?” Syrene perked an eyebrow, “And yet I couldn’t see you? How interesting…”

“Shut up,” Syrise hissed, pressing the blade tighter.

A droplet of blood trickled down the night elf’s throat.

“Release them,” Syrise ordered, “Now!”

“Or what?” Syrene smiled, “You kill me?”

“You think I won’t?”

“I wonder,” Syrene chuckled, “Are you so stupid as to destroy your only leverage?”

Syrise hesitated for a moment. Unfortunately, that was all Syrene needed. The night elf immediately shapeshifted into a massive owlkin. Syrise was lifted from the ground as the body below her grew in size, before her grip faltered and she fell back to the deck. She caught herself in a roll, however, and stopped in a crouched position a few paces back. The moonkin turned to face her, taking a step back and shifting back with ease. Syrise narrowed her eyes and went to move forward, but froze when Syrene set a hand against the bars of Jazax’s cage.

“If you harm him, I will kill every last one of you myself,” Syrise growled, but Syrene was completely unfazed by the threat.

“Now, isn’t this interesting,” Syrene grinned, “You don’t want the goblin to die.”

Syrise tightened her grip on the daggers in her hands. Zami frowned, feeling completely helpless. He didn’t think there was much he could do with only one arm. 

Syrene began to lean against the cage, pushing it slightly. Syrise flinched, and Zami’s stomach told him this situation was going to turn very bad, very soon.

“Drop your weapons, and perhaps I will let the goblin live,” Syrene commanded.

Syrise hesitated, before cursing under her breath in Thalassian, and lowering her daggers to the deck.

Zami turned his gaze to Jazax inside the cage, noticing how he had remained uncharacteristically quiet, especially considering his situation. He found an unfamiliar expression of deep contemplation upon the goblin’s face. His purple eyes were locked on Syrise as the two elves went through their entire exchange, and when she set down her daggers, he finally gave a quiet sigh. And then Zami got a very bad feeling in his stomach.

“Hey, uh, Syrise,” Jazax spoke up in Orcish, pausing to clear his throat, “Wanna hear a joke?”

Everyone paused and all eyes turned to face the goblin, who was now wearing his signature cheesy grin.

“It’s a great one,” He chuckled, “A buddy of mine told it to me back in the Second War.”

While everyone else’s gazes were fixated on the hand Jazax was broadly gesturing with, Zami was the only one watching the goblin sink his other hand into his pocket.

“Lemme see if I remember how it goes,” Jazax grinned as he leaned forward against the cell bars.

“What is the meaning of this?” Syrene hissed, transitioning to Orcish as well, “I have no time for your little jokes, fool.”

“Oh, right, right,” Jazax nodded, all but ignoring the night elf, “I remember it now. I usually like to put my own little spin on it though, see.”

Suddenly he reached forward and grabbed Syrene by the arm, pulling her back against the cage. He continued to grin as he brought his own back roughly against the far side of the cage, causing it to begin tipping over the deck.

“I’m a goblin, I don’t make jokes,” Jazax laughed, pulling the volatile bubbling flask from his pocket, “I make explosives.”

Everyone could only stare in shock as the cage went over the side of the ship, with Syrene flailing against the side of it, and splashed into the water below. And then there was a massive boom, and the ship began to overturn.


	97. Underwater

“Oh no no no no no,” Zami mumbled quickly as his cage slid towards the ship’s railing, as though his words would have some kind of effect on gravity itself.

He winced as the cage slammed up against the wall of the deck, yet it didn’t cross the railing. He only had a moment to relax, however, before Mythene’s cage then crashed into his, sending the both of them toppling over the side and into the dark water below.

Zami managed to take as much of a breath as he could before the ice-cold briny water enveloped him. Today was just a very, very bad day. Perhaps one of the worst in his entire life. No, definitely the worst. He didn’t particularly feel like today was the best day to die, but he didn’t see much of an alternative. Without his other hand, there was no way he could pick the lock, and definitely not break the iron bars. Even if he was berserking, that would’ve been impossible in his present state. Not with one arm.

Zami found that the thought of dying wasn’t really terrifying to him, not anymore, but it definitely was a bit disappointing. All that work he did, and for what? It wasn’t like Bwonsamdi would be so generous as to give him a third chance, either. This was it, he mused begrudgingly. This was his last shot, and he had blown it so spectacularly. Drowning, after all that. After deals with Loa and learning to shapeshift and even falling in… well, it didn’t matter, anyway. This was it. It was over. And it was so painfully anticlimactic.

There was no use trying to think about how he could’ve maybe done this one thing or that one thing just a tiny bit different. What was done was done. No going back, no dwelling on the past. That was how he always wanted to live. And, he supposed, he now decided that was also how he wanted to die. As much of an oxymoron as it seemed, he decided to die looking forward.

As his cage landed against the soft, sandy seabed, Zami heard a faint rustling beside him, and looked over to see Mythene. She was hunched at the bottom of her cage, which had landed beside his, her head bowed and her hands together on her lap in prayer. Zami frowned, slumping down to the bottom of his own cage as he felt his lungs start to burn.

He watched Mythene pray for a moment, resisting the urge to cough and let out his last bits of precious air. She was beautiful like that, he thought. Her silver hair was flowing around her head like a halo. Zami only wished the water was shallow enough to allow the sunlight to glint off it in that way he found so pretty. Oh well. Today wasn’t exactly a day for wishes coming true, he figured.

If his brain had been functioning properly on oxygen, Zami probably wouldn’t have reached out through the bars of his own cage and into Mythene’s. He probably wouldn’t have ran his hand through her hair, or down her cheek. But then, he did. And why not? When else would he get the chance, after all? He was going to die in a few minutes, so might as well go out as pleasantly as possible, right?

Mythene opened her white eyes, glancing over back at him. Her expression was curious. Not disgusted or offended, as he’d expected. It was more… apprehensive. That was probably because she felt the same intense burning in her chest that he did. Regardless, after a moment, her expression softened. She closed her eyes once more, bringing her hand over his and interlacing her four lavender fingers between his turquoise three. 

Zami finally let out the breath he’d been holding, unable to keep it in any longer. He stared over at Mythene for a moment more, wanting to make sure the sight of her was etched into his memory. Then he closed his eyes, content with that being the last thing he saw.

Only moments after he did so, Zami felt something peculiar poke against the skin of his hand. He tried to ignore it, but then he felt a painful prickle, and had to look over curiously. Zeni was half-crawled out of Mythene’s vest pocket, hugging its thorned vine-arms around their joined hands. Zami smiled slightly at the sight, before he got an idea. 

Maybe today wasn’t going to be the last one, after all.

Unsure how to best communicate his thoughts with Mythene, Zami squeezed her hand very tightly. Perhaps painfully tight, because in response her glowing eyes snapped back open and she scowled over at him. He pointed to Zeni as best he could, hoping she’d understand. He may as well have not even needed the gesture, though. A quick glance at his face was all she ever needed, and he saw her eyes light up with realization when she looked into his.

Mythene wasted no time in relinquishing her hand from his, grasping onto Zeni a bit rougher than she normally may have. The lasher looked at her in an almost curious way, and Mythene just bowed her head, concentrating. Zami tried to just be quiet and not move, even though he was starting to feel a bit light-headed due to the lack of air. His vision blurred significantly as he watched the lasher grow and grow in size, greatly surpassing it’s normal, natural size. The last thing Zami could see as his vision darkened was the lasher easily busting the bars of Mythene’s cage.

Good, he thought faintly, at least she would be able to possibly save herself. At least Mythene might end up okay, and that would be enough. Even if everybody else was gone, at least Mythene could live. That small bit of hope was enough to bring a smile to his lips.

And then with that, his consciousness faded away into the dark waters, along with the very last air of his lungs.


	98. Death and Loss

Zami’s eye opened wide as he felt a hard punch to his stomach, and he spat up a fairly significant amount of water. He quickly sat up, panting heavily. The air in his lungs felt hot, even though the air around him felt cold. As he got his ragged breathing under control, Zami looked around him. Everything was bleary and tinged of grey. Oh great, he thought, still Darkshore. His gaze focused ahead of him, to Mythene, who was sitting in the pale sand beside him.

Zami blinked at her a moment before going to say something, but was immediately picked up off the ground by something. Zami put his hands on the large vine wrapped around his waist, uneasy to be so high from the ground, and looked up. Zeni hissed happily down at him, being now approximately the size of an ettin. Zami found that he blinked again several times, the contrast of the lasher’s size coming as a bit of a surprise. It was previously small enough to fit in Mythene’s vest pocket, and now it was practically the size of a small house.

Zeni hissed happily, pulling Zami close into a delighted hug, before gently setting him back in the sand. Zami was only left alone for what must’ve been a single moment, before Zeni happily picked up something else from further up the beach, before setting it down next to Zami.

Or rather, attempting to set it down.

Aka was firmly attached to the end of the lasher’s vine-arm by her sharp teeth, and Zami grinned. The raptor had always had as much of a fear of heights as he did, although he presumed for separate reasons.

“Hey dere, girl,” Zami said softly, his voice coming out hoarse.

Upon hearing his voice, Aka detached herself from the oversized lasher’s limb and practically jumped into his lap. She screeched happily, headbutting him hard enough to make him dizzy. Fortunately, a few strokes on her nose were enough to calm her.

Zami smiled and turned to Mythene, again to speak, but she was looking away, watching further up the beach. Zami followed her gaze and his smile fell. Syrise was leaning over Jazax, who wasn't moving.

“Come on, Jazzy,” Syrise frowned, pushing forcefully against his chest, “This is completely not fair and you know it.”

Syrise gave a few more particularly hard pushes against his chest before slumping forward. Her soaking-wet blonde hair hung over her face, and she proceeded to furiously punch at the sand beside her, shouting out a string of Thalassian curses.

Mythene furrowed her brow, glancing aside for a moment, before standing up. She crouched down in the sand beside Syrise, putting a hand gently on her shoulder. Syrise angrily shoved her hand away and stood up, almost violently, then proceeded to stalk away from them. The Thalassian curses didn’t stop until she was out of earshot.

Mythene put her hand over her mouth, hiding her very noticeable frown, before slowly glancing down at the body. Her white brows furrowed and she looked away sadly.

“What a shame,” She commented from behind her hand.

Zami sighed in quiet agreement, lowering his gaze as well, and began to idly rub the stump at his shoulder. He’d always figured Jazax would go out with a bang, though not quite like this. He was pretty sure the reality still hadn’t sunk in yet, and he was kind of glad.

Zami looked up as he heard the sound of heavy footsteps, and looked up just in time to see Syrise stalking back over. She looked furious.

“Ugh, I’m so stupid!” Syrise hissed as she strode over to Mythene, “Kaldorei!”

“Hm?” Mythene looked up at Syrise curiously, “Yes…?

“How did I even forget this? Stupid me!” Syrise slapped her own forehead roughly, “Stupid, stupid Syrise, right?!”

“Um…” Mythene frowned, “What are you---”

“You’re a healer! A super good one, right?!” Syrise cut her off, crouching down beside her, “You can just resurrect him!”

Mythene’s eyes widened and she quickly looked away from Syrise, her expression one of sheer terror. Zami furrowed his brow as he watched from nearby.

“Well?! Come on already, kaldorei!” Syrise said, giving Mythene a little shove, “Get to work!”

“I-I... um, Syri---”

“What? You need stuff?” Syrise blinked at her, her green eyes practically boring into the back of Mythene’s head, “I can get you stuff! Whatever you need!”

“Uh, um, y-yes,” Mythene quickly turned back to face Syrise, “I-I need… things!”

“Right, of course!” Syrise nodded, a smile growing on her lips, “What do you need?”

“Uh,” Mythene glanced about quickly, “Wood!”

“Wood?”

“Yes,” Mythene nodded, “For an, um, fire! A.. special… druid fire!”

Syrise perked an eyebrow, inciting Mythene to offer an explanation.

“A fire for…the spiritual essence… of a tree! Which you can, you know… trade… for his life?”

Syrise nodded without hesitation, standing up quickly.

“Kindling for a fire! Got it! Be back soon!”

Before anyone could say anything more, Syrise darted out into the woodlands. Mythene groaned, holding her face with her hands, before flopping back into the sand. Zami just blinked at her for a moment before his expression went flat.

“What’cha doin’ dat for?” Zami scrowled, crossing his arms.

Well, trying to. He stopped halfway through the gesture, remembering he only had one. Instead, he set it against his hip.

“Doing what?” Mythene asked, lowering her hands so she could blink at him as innocently as possible.

Zami just looked back at her flatly, unamused.

“Dat ain’t no way to do nothin’ to nobody and ya know it,” Zami sniffed, turning his head away from her, “Why ya lyin’ to her?”

Mythene frowned, glancing aside. Zami waited patiently for an answer, unwilling to back down. This was a particularly sore issue for him.

“Look, about Jazax…” Zami glanced at the goblin’s body, “I know ya didn’t really get along, but---”

Before he could finish, Mythene threw a rock at his head. It missed entirely, but her point was made.

“I would never do such a thing!” Mythene hissed, “How dare you insinuate I would refuse to offer my aid simply because of some petty---”

“Then why ain’t ya?” Zami scowled, “Ya s’posta be da best healer in da Cenarion Cir---”

“I know!” Mythene huffed, cutting him off, “But I... “

She shifted uncomfortably, hugging herself. Zami suddenly got a bad feeling in his stomach. He had a feeling he knew what was coming next, and it only made him annoyed.

“I’ve always struggled with resurrection spells, specifically,” Mythene admitted quietly, “Death is a barrier I cannot… hold myself against.”

Zami scowled down at the sand, his irritation growing. Of all the times… 

“You know how druidic healing works,” Mythene continued, “You must think of a past loss, and then let it go. But I… I can’t let go of those I’ve lost. I can’t do it…”

Zami scowled at the sand for another moment, before closing his eye. He took a deep breath, sighing, before standing up.

“Den I’ll do it,” He said with a nod, opening his eye.

Mythene blinked up at him incredulously. She went to protest but Zami spoke before she could.

“Ya lost one brudda,” Zami looked down at her, “And I lost four. Not to mention, da woman I loved. And my best friend.”

He paused to glance down at Jazax before adding.

“Twice now.”

Mythene was silent for a moment before she gave a short nod.

“Alright then,” She said quietly, “Come here and I will show you the somatic gestures you must---”

“Not yet,” Zami said as he sat back down in the sand, “Syrise should be here.”

Mythene nodded, glancing back at Jazax’s cold body.

“This is a complicated spell, thero’shan,” She said quietly, “You may not be able to handle the---”

“It’s fine,” Zami sniffed, going to cross his arms again, and once more being briskly reminded of his missing arm.


	99. Release

Zami was less nervous than he expected to be. He knew this was a big deal. Mythene had beaten him over the head with that point several times. But he was determined. He’d taken a seat in the sand by the water’s edge. He had to clear his mind. Really clear it. He’d managed to get by for the few times he’d healed before, but only barely. Pain was something he was used to. It easily came and went. But death… 

Zami frowned, looking down at the water. He watched the tide ebb and flow for a moment, unconsciously matching his breathing to the rhythm. The water was stained red in the glimpse of a memory that flashed before him. He didn’t turn away or close his eye. In truth, this was something he felt eager to face. To let go of. It was long overdue.

“Look at you,” Mythene said as she approached, “You already look the part of a druid.”

Mythene crouched down beside him, smiling softly, yet also sadly. She was worried, even though she tried not to show it. This really was a big deal, Zami reminded himself. Bringing someone back from the dead was no small feat, after all.

“It’s time,” Mythene reached out and set a hand over his, “Are you ready?”

Zami shrugged a little, still looking out to the water.

“I gotta be,” He said firmly, before standing up.

Mythene stood up beside him, nodding quietly. Zami followed her over to Jazax’s body. Syrise was sitting on a nearby log, her leg bouncing anxiously. Her hands were clasped together tightly under her chin. She almost looked like she was in prayer, and the look on her face almost made Zami think she was. He wondered briefly who or what a blood elf would even pray to, before shaking the thoughts away. Now was not the time to lose focus.

Zami crouched down into the sand, placing his left hand over Jazax’s cold chest. It wasn’t ideal, only having one hand to work with. But he’d just have to focus harder to make up for it. Mythene knelt down beside him.

“Clear your mind,” She began, and Zami took that as the cue to close his eye.

Zami steadied his breathing and let his mind grow blank. His prior practice was definitely turning out to be helpful. After a minute, he felt Mythene gently set her hand on his shoulder. Now comes the hard part, he thought.

“When your mind is blank, you must focus on the memory,” She said quietly.

Zami nodded slightly. His fetish clinked slightly as his dreadlocks shook. His brow furrowed as he brought himself back to that memory, back to that place he hated going. 

Blood stained the sand below them. The waves, frothed with red, crashed up against the shore of the islet they’d be marooned upon. Left to die. The dagger was dropped, discarded like an accursed icon of every bad thing he’d ever done. It was all his fault. There was nobody else to blame. It was by his hand that Zin’aka was nothing more than a rotting corpse.

After that, he just saw the same image in his mind. The one that had haunted him for all these years. Her glassy eyes staring up at him, staring into his very soul. But they weren’t blank. They weren’t empty. They were angry. They were full of hatred, betrayal, fury. She looked at him with murder in her eyes, even as she lay dead.

She never loved him.

Zami had always acknowledged this fact, on the surface. In truth, he knew so little about Zin’aka. He was nobody special to her for the entire time they’d known each other. The only unique feeling she had for him was hatred. He never had any right to love her when he didn’t even know her.

Maybe he’d never really even loved her, he realized bitterly. Maybe he’d just convinced himself that he had. Maybe he was just desperate to believe he’d known love once in his miserable life. Or maybe it was just another excuse for him to blame himself, to hate himself.

Zami flinched slightly as he felt Mythene gently brush a tear from his cheek, but he didn’t let it distract him. He let his mind focus on everything he’d been trying to ignore for so long. It hurt to confront the bitter truth, but at the same time, it was a sort of relief. It was a release.

It was difficult for him not to dwell down there, in those dark thoughts. But Zami knew what he needed to do. He looked down at Zin’aka in his mind’s eye, remembering how he had held her body until it had grown cold. And then he sighed deeply, feeling her crumble in his arms. The ashes blew away with the wind, leaving him alone as he exhaled.

Zami felt a headache growing but still he lingered, breathless, for as long as he could. It wasn’t until he saw spots behind his eyelids and felt the familiar burning in his lungs that he finally gasped. He opened his eye and looked down. Everyone stared at the goblin and waited. The tension in the air was palpable.

Zami suddenly flinched and drew his hand back like he’d just touched fire. Before either Mythene or Syrise could comment on it, Jazax suddenly coughed.

They all watched with bated breath as Jazax gasped and caught his own breath, before he sat up. He paused to rub his eyes then slowly looked around. Seeing he was the center of attention, he cracked a small nervous grin.

“Er…” Jazax cleared his throat, “...What’re youse all starin’ at, huh?”

Before anyone could say anything, Syrise dove at Jazax like a raptor pouncing on a poor, defenseless zhevra. She grabbed Jazax in a vice grip and crushed his little body up against hers. Judging by the way he coughed and squirmed, it was probably tight enough to knock the wind out of him. And maybe a bit painful, too.

Zami sat back, smiling as he watched Jazax flail in confusion, desperately trying to escape the blood elf’s unexpected hug. Mythene chuckled from behind her hand, unable to hide the relief on her face. Zami was then overcome by a sudden feeling of intense exhaustion. His headache pulsed. It’d definitely taken a lot out of him, and he now wanted nothing more than a good nap.

“Jeez, woman! You’re killin’ me here!” Jazax screeched, managing to slip away from Syrise, “What’s the matter with you, huh?!”

Syrise pouted at his escape, but her expression quickly changed to glare daggers at him as she stood up. Jazax gulped nervously as Syrise then grabbed him by the collar of his robe, picking him up off the ground.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” She hissed threateningly, shaking him like a ragdoll, “If you die again, I will kill you!”

Jazax looked back at her flatly

“Oh yeah? Well then tell me, genius, how you gonna kill me if I’m already---wait, die?” Jazax paused, his eyes widening, “Wait, wait, I died?!”

“Yeah, genius!” Syrise shook him again, “You sacrificed yourself, you stupid, selfish jerk!”

Jazax perked an eyebrow and went to protest but Syrise slapped him across the face, quickly changing his expression back to one of confused surprise.

“That’s for killing yourself!” She growled.

Then she pulled Jazax close to her and kissed him angrily.

“And that’s for saving me,” She added softly.

Before Jazax could say anything, she unceremoniously dropped him down into the sand, and spun around to face Zami and Mythene.

“I’m going to go find something to eat now!” She announced loudly before stalking away.

Zami snorted in amusement, looking at the dumbstruck look on Jazax’s face. He looked to Mythene, to make a joke about the situation, but stopped as his headache spiked painfully again. He winced, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. It felt like his brain was melting.

Mythene looked over at him and her expression immediately became worried. She crawled over to his side, bringing up a hand to move his. Zami tried to protest, but found that his limbs were starting to feel weak. Still, he was just tired. That was all. It was fine.

...Right?

“Thero’shan? What’s wrong?”

Zami wanted to respond. He really did. But he lost consciousness before he could.


	100. Shan'do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy one year anniversary! 
> 
> Today is October 7th, the anniversary of the first day I posted a chapter of In Our Nature. We’re over 120,000 words now, and I think it’s safe to say we’ve reached novel lengths here! I just wanted to take a little moment here to say thank you, to all of you. Whether you’ve been here since the beginning or joined up further down the road---heck, even if you started reading this today---thank you! Here’s to 100 more! :D

Zami heard the sound of water trickling softly. He could smell damp soil and flowers. There was a faint magical hum in the air. It felt like he’d slept for a thousand years or something. He shifted, stretching out his limbs, and froze. His eye shot open and he sat up quickly. Blinking several times in confusion, he stared down at his hand with surprise dawning across his face. As if to test that it wasn’t a mirage, he interlaced the fingers of both his hands. It was real, he concluded. His arm had regrown.

The faint sound of whispering broke Zami from marveling at his regrown arm, and he looked up, finally taking note of his surroundings. He was sitting at the top of a pair of stone steps, next to the largest pool of glowing blue water he’d ever seen. But that wasn’t the impressive part. Not by a long shot. He was more fixated with the massive alabaster statue of a night elf. She was holding a bowl aloft, just like the little statue he’d found long ago. Except this one was several stories high, and blue water poured endlessly from her bowl into the pools below.

Wisps flew about, whispering as they passed, and it reminded him so much of Moonglade. His gaze moved past the immediate area to the wide archway ahead, from which a pale pink sunlight streamed. He suddenly felt some intense dread, seeing the small crowd of night elves staring at him from a distance. Some of them looked curious, others looked bewildered, and more than a few looked disgusted. They were being held back by some armored women, a couple of which were riding frostsabers.

Zami looked around for any sign of Mythene or the others, but his view was blocked. An unfamiliar night elf stepped in front of him. She wore a long flowing white robe with purple trim and her dark blue hair was wound in two thick braids over her shoulders. Her pink cheeks had no markings, and here eyes were gold.

“Hello there,” The night elf smiled, speaking in Darnassian, “How are you feeling?”

Zami blinked at her, surprised by her rather neutral regard for him.

“Where’s Mythene?” He asked, using Darnassian as well.

“She’s speaking with Malfurion Stormrage at the moment,” The night elf nodded, “Regarding your diplomatic immunity as a member of the Cenarion Circle.”

“Well, when will she be back?” He asked, to which the night elf shrugged.

“I don’t know, but likely soon. Please be patient.”

“Where am I?” Zami asked, looking around, “Moonglade?”

“No, not Moonglade,” The night elf shook her head, “This is the Temple of the Moon, in Darnassus.”

“Darnassus?” Zami paused, “You mean… on Teldrassil?”

“Correct,” The night elf nodded.

Zami frowned, suddenly feeling a bit woozy. Noting this, the night elf knelt beside him.

“Are you still feeling weak?” She asked, “You overexerted yourself magically, and briefly fell comatose. My sisters and I have healed you at the request of Archdruid Moonshadow, though we cannot allow you to leave the Temple at this time.”

“What about Jazax and Syrise?” Zami asked as he looked around, “Where are they? With Mythene?”

“You refer to the sin’dorei and the goblin? I’m afraid we could not allow the blood elf passage into our lands. Our Sentinels are escorting her to Moonglade. She insisted upon taking the raptor with her.”

Zami nodded, supposing it was good that Syrise took Aka. The last thing he wanted was for her to think he was abandoning her again.

“And the goblin?” Zami asked.

The night elf looked slightly annoyed for a moment, but cleared her throat.

“As a member of the neutral Steamwheedle Cartel, he has been allowed into the city. Against the wishes of some. I believe he was last seen wandering about the Tradesmen’s Terrace.”

Zami snorted in amusement. Jazax was probably busy trying to con some poor night elf out of his last copper. Leave it to him to prioritize a few coins over the situation at hand. At least that meant he was probably fully recovered.

“I’ve heard a great deal about you, Zen’Zami,” The night elf commented, making Zami perk an eyebrow, “A great deal indeed.”

“Good things, I hope,” He chuckled, feeling a little self-conscious at her words.

“Mythene wrote of you often,” The night elf smiled, “I was so surprised when she said that she’d taken a student. She hasn’t tried to teach since Enerion…”

Zami nodded, recalling the bits of the situation he knew. Mythene must’ve been teaching her little brother to be a druid, but he went feral after shapeshifting. She’d apparently had to kill him for it, and was clearly still feeling guilty about it.

“I wonder why she chose you,” The night elf tapped a pink finger against her chin, “It seems so unlike her.”

“She said she likes the challenge,” Zami shrugged, recalling with a nostalgic smile.

“That she does,” The night elf chuckled, “Oh, silly me. I neglected to introduce myself.”

The night elf stood up, brushing the dirt from her dress, and extended a hand.

“My name is Desana Nightwing, a priestess of Elune. I wouldn’t want to brag, but Mythene does happen to be my best friend.”

“I guess you already know my name,” Zami chuckled, shaking her hand awkwardly.

He paused a moment.

“Your name sounds familiar,” He furrowed his brow, trying to recall where he’d heard it before.

“Oh, you’re no doubt thinking of my brother, Daras,” Desana smiled, “He’s Mythene’s beau. I’m sure she mentions him all the time. They’re quite enamored.”

Zami perked an eyebrow, remembering now. Wasn’t that the guy Mythene had practically ran away from in Ashenvale? He was pretty sure Mythene wasn’t as enamored as Desana seemed to think.

“Uh, yeah,” He cleared his throat, “Sure…”

Desana went to say something else, but there was suddenly a commotion from the crowd at the archway. The two of them looked over to see the crowd part for a small group. Mythene was leading two other night elves through the crowd. One of them, a woman, looked quite regal. Her skin was pink, like Desana’s, though her hair was light blue and her eyes were white with a blue tinge. All in all, she looked very much like a pretty standard night elf, though she carried herself in a conspicuously elegant way that almost seemed to inherently fit the temple around them.

Beside the regal night elf was a male. He couldn’t have been more her opposite. The first thing Zami noticed was the antlers growing out of his green hair. The second thing Zami noticed was his massive green beard. Like the woman beside him, his skin was pink and his eyes were white. But that was where the similarities stopped. Zami couldn’t quite explain it, but it felt almost as though the night elf carried the very essence of nature within himself. 

It didn’t take much for Zami to put two and two together to figured he must’ve been the Malfurion Stormrage he’d heard so much about. And if that was the case, then the woman beside him was no doubt Tyrande Whisperwind.

“High Priestess Whisperwind,” Desana bowed her head as she skirted out of the way, “Forgive me, I didn’t realize you would be here as well. Please, excuse my---”

“Be at peace, sister,” Tyrande interrupted her as she held a hand towards Desana.

Zami almost didn’t understand what she’d even said. Her accent was a bit strange. Different from Mythene’s, or any other Darnassian he’d heard.

“So this is the curious Emerald Seer I’ve heard so much about from Keeper Remulos,” Malfurion spoke up, his accent also a bit strange, “Might I see it?”

Zami blinked a moment, before realizing he must’ve been referring to his eye. He nodded quickly, reaching up and pulling off his eyepatch. Then he just stared up at the night elves as they peered down curiously.

“How extraordinary,” Malfurion quipped, “And you say that you can see directly into the Emerald Dream with it?”

Zami nodded again.

“Remarkable,” Malfurion again, “Would you care to recount for me how you obtained such a power?”

“Um, Shan’do,” Mythene cleared her throat, “Would it not be prudent to first extend diplomatic immunity to my student, before his abilities are studied?”

“Hm? Oh, yes,” Malfurion chuckled, “Forgive me, I am simply fascinated by that eye.”

Malfurion then turned to look at Zami.

“As you are indeed a druid of the Cenarion Circle, you are most certainly welcome within our city.”

At his words, Tyrande furrowed her brow slightly.

“Are you sure this is wise, my love?” She asked, glancing at Zami suspiciously, “The troll is a druid, yes, but it is still a troll. How can we trust it? It could be a spy for the Horde.”

Malfurion nodded, listening to her speak, before turning to her.

“I understand your concerns, however Archdruid Moonshadow seems to trust him, and I trust her judgement.”

“Even so, we cannot simply allow a member of the Horde to have free rein of our land. Perhaps we could restrict access to the Cenarion Enclave alone?”

“You are right to be wary. However, I believe such a restriction is unnecessary. Archdruid Moonshadow has ensured us that she will keep a close eye upon him.”

Malfurion paused to gesture towards Zami.

“Keeper Remulos tells me that a great many of his people have joined ranks within the Cenarion Circle as of late. We are not so distrusting of our Tauren allies. It would foster a greater sense of harmony within the Circle to not treat his kind with any added suspicion.”

Tyrande frowned.

“Yes, perhaps, but---”

Malfurion gently set a hand on her shoulder.

“I believe now would be a time for such a gesture of good faith, Tyrande,” He explained to her, “You of all people know the importance of such. The return of Deathwing and the shattering of the land leave us in a precarious position, my love. It is now that the Circle needs all of the assistance it can gather, in order to heal the land. Now is not the time to let our petty differences divide us.”

Zami watched with a sort of curiosity. It was kind of surprising how much this night elf’s words reflected the ones he’d heard Vol’jin speak. Perhaps they weren’t as different as they seemed. Meanwhile, Tyrande clenched her jaw, but conceded his point with a nod of her head.

“Very well, my love,” She sighed, before turning to Mythene, “But the troll never leaves your sight. You will watch like a hawk.”

“Of course,” Mythene bowed her head respectfully, “Thank you for your counsel, High Priestess, Shan’do.”

Then she turned to Zami, a relieved smile on her lips.

“Come then, thero’shan, and I will show you Darnassus.”


	101. Falore

Zami sat hunched over leaning onto the little table, propping his chin up with his hand. He felt so gangly and overly-large, trying to force himself to fit on the little night elven bench. It was far too small, though he wasn’t going to say anything about it. Mythene seemed to be in an actual good mood for a change, so he wasn’t keen on ruining that by complaining. So instead he just sat quietly and thought to himself.

They traveled to the northern side of the city, far away from the Temple of the Moon where he’d awoken. Zami had stolen occasional glances around at the city as they’d walked. Not too much to seem suspicious, but enough to give him an image of his surroundings. The city was so strange compared to Orgrimmar. Trees grew everywhere. The entire city was enclosed by a circle of huge trees, and there were many smaller ones outside of the main paths. Even some of the buildings were built right out of the trees. Night elves really did like their trees, he supposed.

Zami found that he was particularly impressed by the lake towards the center of the city, which was broken up by pedestals, pathways, and little islands. It almost reminded him of those confusing rises of Thunder Bluff, but smaller. Zami smiled as he remembered how he and Zalu had gotten lost and wandered around the city in confusion before finally finding the Elder Rise.

And then his amusement faded. His thoughts turned to Zalu, as much as he didn’t want them to. Where was his little brother now, he wondered? Was he still in Stranglethorn? Or maybe Jumi had taken him deeper into the Eastern Kingdom. Either way, it was probably for the best. They were no doubt far from the clutches of the Emerald Coven.

Was there even still an Emerald Coven though? Their leader had died. Jazax had seen to that, in his typical haphazard way. Although he did suppose it was possible Syrene had survived. Jazax had, after all. Then again, he was used to exploding. But still, the water could’ve softened the impact, right?

“What has it done?”

Zami blinked a few times, looking up as Mythene spoke. He took a moment to register what she had said before perking an eyebrow.

“You’re glaring at your moonberry juice,” She chuckled, gesturing to the cup in front of him, “What has it done to you?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, nothing,” Zami shrugged, picking up the little cup.

He downed the entire thing in one sip, more as a gesture to Mythene than anything else, before setting down the empty cup. Now it was her turn to perk an eyebrow.

“You seem troubled,” She commented, taking a small sip of her own cup before adding, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Zami said quickly, probably a little too quickly.

Mythene furrowed her brow, setting her own cup down, and turned her attention to giving him a scrutinizing scowl. Zami found that he buckled rather quickly under her gaze and gave a defeated sigh.

“I dunno,” He shrugged, picking up his empty cup and pretending to focus on the inlain pattern, “Just thinkin’ bout a lotta stuff, I guess.”

“That much is clear,” Mythene nodded, “Care to divulge?”

“Not really,” Zami glanced aside, setting down the cup once more.

He thought for a moment before glancing back across the table to Mythene.

“What about you?” He asked slowly, almost cautiously.

Mythene perked an eyebrow, silently urging him to clarify.

“I mean, you prolly got stuff on your mind,” Zami shrugged, “What’re you thinkin’ about?”

Mythene blinked for a moment, as though surprised by the question, before her expression became a bit lighter.

“Hm...” She gave a thoughtful glance at the ceiling as she took another sip of her cup.

A moment passed before she spoke up.

“I suppose I’m thinking about my sister,” She said quietly, her expression dimming slightly, “I suppose I’m wondering if I could’ve saved her, cleared the fog in her mind somehow.”

Zami tapped his hand against the table for a moment, weighing a decision in his mind. Once he decided, he cleared his throat.

“Ya sure she’s dead?”

Mythene blinked like she hadn’t even considered the possibility that Syrene had survived.

“Well, I suppose she could still live…” She mumbled, putting a hand on her chin, “But I don’t think it would be likely she could do much harm. It seemed like most of the Emerald Coven defectors were with her. So even if she survived, I don't think it would be a concern.”

She paused a moment, tapping her chin.

“Then again…”

Before she could elaborate, a night elven woman in armor approached their table. Zami looked up at her and immediately frowned, recognizing her.

“I had so hoped the rumors weren’t true,” Cassene sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Her words were in Darnassian, Zami noted.

“Sister?” Mythene echoed her Darnassian, “What are you doing in Dar---”

“So now you’ve brought the beast to Darnassus?” Cassene sighed drearily, “And while I’m on leave from Astranaar, no less.”

Zami just rolled his eye, steeling himself for the coming onslaught of derogatory comments. Mythene, meanwhile, frowned tersely.

“Cassene, please mind how you speak about my student,” Mythene said stiffly, causing both Zami and Cassene to perk an eyebrow.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re still wasting your time trying to teach this beast,” Cassene shook her head, and Mythene stood up.

“Sister, I have something to discuss with you. In private.”

Cassene crossed her arms, her sneer falling to a serious expression as she caught the weight of Mythene’s tone. Zami figured they were going to discuss Syrene, and the very real probability that she was dead.

“Go on then,” Cassene nodded.

“In private?” Mythene repeated, glancing at Zami.

At this, Zami perked an eyebrow curiously. So, then, it must’ve been a different matter? One he couldn’t hear about.

“The beast can’t understand us,” Cassene shrugged, causing Mythene to shake her head.

“Actually, I’ve been teaching him to speak Darnassian,” She explained, gesturing to Zami, “He can understand us perfectly right now.”

Cassene looked at Zami in surprise for a moment before scowling.

“Whyever would you teach that Horde scum to---”

“Sister,” Mythene interrupted her sharply, “Might we speak in private now?”

Cassene huffed at being cut off but nodded.

“Excuse us for a moment then,” Mythene nodded towards Zami.

“Sure, take your time, ladies,” Zami said, making sure to pronounce his Darnassian as best as he could.

Judging by how Cassene looked more annoyed with each word, he figured he was probably doing a fairly good job. Zami briefly snickered to himself as they departed, before turning his focus to wondering what they were discussing. It was something Mythene felt he had no business knowing, so he supposed it was probably none of his business. 

Deciding to just ignore his curiosity, he reached across the table and picked up Mythene’s cup. As he was pouring its contents into his own cup, deciding she probably wouldn’t miss it, he noticed several night elves around the inn were murmuring amongst themselves. At first he thought they were talking about him, but he quickly realized most eyes were locked towards the door. Zami turned to look over his shoulder towards whatever spectacle caught their attention. He perked an eyebrow in surprise, seeing it was that woman from before, High Priestess Tyrande. Her annoyed gaze met his, and she approached his table.

“Troll,” She hissed in Darnassian, glancing around, “Where is your guardian?”

“Err--”

“She was not supposed to let you from her sight,” Tyrande growled.

“Uhh,” Zami rubbed his neck, unsure what he should say, “Well, she’s…”

Before he could come up with anything, Tyrande sighed shortly and crossed her arms.

“Nevermind,” She shook her head, “Come with me. We have much to discuss.”

She turned and strode out of the inn, not bothering to look back to see if Zami would follow or not. Zami cocked his head to the side, glancing in the direction Mythene had gone, before looking back to Tyrande’s receding form. After a moment of hesitation, he stood up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well now whatever could Tyrande want?


	102. Elune-Adore

Zami followed Tyrande back to the Temple of the Moon, his thoughts never straying from the anxious. What would happen when Mythene returned and he was gone? Would she go off to look for him? Would she even know where to look? How would they find each other again? And what did this High Priestess lady even want with him?

When they entered the Temple, Tyrande was approached by that priestess from before, Desana.

“High Priestess, welcome b--oh?” Desana stopped as her gold eyes flicked over towards Zami, “Ah, is it time then?”

“Yes,” Tyrande nodded, “Gather the other priestesses and leave us.”

“Of course, High Priestess,” Desana nodded quickly, glancing again at Zami as she hurried past him.

Zami cocked his head to the side, starting to feel a bit weary. Why would she want them left alone? Unless she intended something unsavory. Like killing him. Zami glanced over at Tyrande and looked her up and down, measuring his abilities to fight her. She didn’t look too tough, and she was just a priest. They were mainly healers, right? He didn’t want to underestimate her, but he decided he probably could take her, at least enough to escape.

“Troll,” Tyrande glanced back over her shoulder, her tone commanding and full of warning, “Release your weapon this instant.”

Zami perked an eyebrow before glancing down and realizing he had instinctively moved his hand to grip the hilt of his dagger. He quickly moved it away, cursing his instincts.

“Be at peace. You have nothing to fear,” Tyrande stated factually, rather than attempting to soothe his nerves, “I only wish to talk.”

Zami relaxed his shoulders a little, not realizing they’d become so tense. It was quickly becoming clear why Mythene was so easily able to read his thoughts and emotions. It wasn’t just his face. His entire body betrayed him in that regard.

As Tyrande approached the central pool, and Zami nervously followed, several night elves in priestly garb made their exit, with Desana following behind the last. Soon, the entire Temple was empty. All except for Zami and Tyrande.

“I wonder where I might begin,” Tyrande said as she stood beside the water, speaking more to herself than Zami.

Tyrande then turned and glanced back at Zami, gesturing him to approach, before gesturing to the large statue.

“Do you know who she is?” She asked, her tone testing.

“Uh,” Zami paused to remember the name Mythene had told him, “Haidene? Right?”

“Very good,” Tyrande nodded, looking back towards the statue, “High Priestess Haidene was the very first High Priestess. She lived many thousands of years ago, in an age beyond ages. It was she who taught our people of Elune’s existence. She first heard the Goddess speak to her, guiding her.”

Tyrande continued to stare up at the statue.

“Truly, she was blessed,” Tyrande continued, “To hear the goddess.”

Zami suddenly had an inkling he knew what they were going to be talking about. And it made his stomach hurt.

“When Archdruid Moonshadow pled your case to us, asking for your diplomatic immunity, she explained many things. Including that you are favored by Elune.”

“Err, well---”

Zami wasn’t able to get out anything further before Tyrande spun around to face him, her white eyes blazing with hot fury.

“She spoke of your ridiculous claims,” Tyrande hissed, “That you have seen the goddess.”

“Well, I---”

“A laughable idea!” Tyrande interrupted him, clenching her fists by her sides, “Why would the goddess reveal herself to you? A troll of the Horde? And not I, her chosen Priestess?”

Zami blinked for a moment, before suddenly everything clicked into place. She didn’t just hate him because he was a troll, or a member of the Horde. She was jealous.

“Well…” Zami began slowly, wondering if he’d be cut off again, “Maybe I… didn’t?”

“Of course you didn’t, the goddess would never…” Tyrande trailed off, stopping herself.

With a frustrated sigh, she glanced over her shoulder, back to the pool of water. She stared for a long moment, before closing her eyes and bowing her head. Then her fists, which were still clenched at her sides, relaxed and loosened.

“It is not my place to say what the goddess may or may not do,” She muttered, opening her eyes and turning to face the water, “Perhaps you did see her.”

Zami perked an eyebrow, surprised by her sudden change of opinion.

“Perhaps it has something to do with that eye of yours. You may already see directly to the Emerald Dream, which many could never imagine possible,” Tyrande glanced back before adding, “Especially not for a troll.”

Tyrande gave a quieter, shorter sigh before crossing her arms and turning to face him. Her expression no longer showed any signs of her previous anger or malice, but now a genuine curiosity. 

“Tell me, then, of what you have allegedly seen.”

Zami recounted the story, making sure to point out that he had seen the laughing woman in the water before his eye had healed. The day before, actually. He’d never really thought to connect the two things. Then again, he’d never really thought about a lot of this stuff. It was a bit too much to handle by this point, and he was kind of just winging it through absurd situation after absurd situation.

As he recounted the story, including the dream of the moon woman he’d seen when he’d arrived in Nighthaven, Tyrande only listened. She occasionally nodded her head or perked an eyebrow, but otherwise offered no comment. When Zami finally finished telling her everything, Tyrande turned around to face the water again.

“I see,” She said quietly, looking at the water.

A moment in silence passed before Tyrande glanced back at him over her shoulder.

“That will be all for now, then, troll,” She said, with no venom on the word troll, much unlike before, “I must reflect upon this information. You may go for now. Return to your Archdruid, and leave me to think.”

Zami nodded, turning to exit. He hoped he’d be able to find his way back towards that inn. Maybe a sentinel could help him or something. Just before he passed through the large archway, Tyrande looked back.

“Ah, one final thought, troll,” She spoke up, stopping him in his tracks.

Zami looked back at her curiously.

“If the goddess is truly involved in your journey, then I believe it is no coincidence that you are accompanied by Archdruid Moonshadow.”

Zami turned around, eyebrow perked, and cocked his head to the side.

“For you see,” Tyrande turned back to the statue and gestured to it with a purple hand, “High Priestess Haidene was her mother’s grandmother.”


	103. Joint Account

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been so self-conscious about my writing lately. Feeling very much like I’m not all that good at writing in the first place, and it’s really clogging up my ability to get a chapter out at a timely rate. I keep ending up rewriting them over and over, because it never feels any good. It’s been especially bad with the last few chapters, including for Boombottle. I know I just need to power through it, but it’s hard to stay motivated when I feel like I suck, haha...

Zami had always hated cities. It was always too crowded and noisy in cities. It didn’t matter if it was Thunder Bluff, the Undercity, or even Orgrimmar. But at least he had some kind of passing familiarity with those cities, and the inhabitants didn’t all stare at him like he had two heads. Darnassus was a different story entirely. And, as a result, Zami quickly found himself completely lost.

First he had tried to go north, as he remembered going that way with Mythene. But when he finally managed to stumble upon the inn, Mythene was nowhere to be seen. A quick conversation with the innkeeper revealed that she and Cassene had left a short while ago. With no other leads, Zami hoped maybe Mythene had gone to the Temple of the Moon to find him, and so he went all the way back. But she wasn’t there either.

After at least an hour of wandering around the city aimlessly, growing increasingly anxious, Zami finally gave up. If he couldn’t find her, then she’d just have to find him. And if that were to happen, then he’d have to be somewhere visible. And thus, he made his way for the bear-shaped tree at the middle of the lake.

Once he’d arrived at that little islet with the bear tree, Zami noticed that there seemed to be some sort of building or stall built out of the bear tree itself. It appeared to be some kind of bank or storage center. Curiously, he approached for a better look. And as soon as he did, he heard a very familiar voice shrieking in Darnassian from around the other side.

“Whaddya mean it’s empty?!”

Zami perked an eyebrow and leaned to look around to the other side of the tree. As soon as he did, his suspicions were confirmed and he couldn’t help but smile.

“Now you listen here, lady,” Jazax scowled at the bank teller, “I know for a fact that I had exactly 657 gold, 23 silver, and 63 copper.”

The night elf at the counter perked an eyebrow skeptically, to which Jazax shrugged unenthusiastically.

“I count it often, alright? I find it relaxing.”

“Well, I’m sorry, sir,” The night elf looked down at a parchment in her hand, “But currently, your account appears to be completely empty.”

Zami paused for a moment to wonder how every bank always seemed to instantly know everyone’s account information, before approaching beside Jazax, who looked on the verge of a heart attack. Before Zami could say anything, Jazax cleared his throat, seemingly regaining his composure, and leaned against the teller window.

“Look, dollface, obviously there’s been some kinda mistake here, right?” He said, pausing to give her his signature cheesy smile, “So why don’t you run on to the back and check again, huh? Wouldja do that for me, darling?”

The night elf stared at him flatly, completely unimpressed by his attempts at flattery. But after he shot her another nervous grin, finally she rolled her eyes. With a deep sigh, she turned and disappeared from the window for a moment. Jazax looked hopeful, until she returned, wearing the same flat expression.

“I checked again, sir,” The teller monotoned, “Your account is still empty.”

Jazax tapped his green fingers nervously against the window before furrowing his brow.

“Well, okay then,” He admitted, a bit awkwardly, “But can you at least tell me the last couple transactions?”

“That I can do,” The banker nodded, turning to look at a different parchment, “Let’s see…”

Zami wondered again how the bankers knew everything, before deciding to just excuse it with magic and cease considering the matter.

“It looks like two of the last three transactions were from Booty Bay, in the Cape of Stranglethorn,” The banker said as she eyed the parchment, “And one was from Everlook in Winterspring.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Jazax nodded absentmindedly, before doing a doubletake, “Wait, what? Did you say Everlook?”

“Two deposits set earlier this summer, three moons ago. And then one withdrawal, of the entire account, dated two weeks ago.”

“No, no, wait. That ain’t right,” Jazax furrowed his brow, turning to face Zami, “I was with you guys on the ship.”

Zami nodded, recalling how that voyage had taken a while to sail from Stranglethorn to the Veiled Sea. At least two weeks, he wagered.

“Is there anyone else with access to your account, sir?” The night elf asked.

“No way!” Jazax hurriedly shook his head, before pausing to put a hand on his chin, “Well, I mean… no, no. Definitely not… err, maybe?”

The banker looked at him flatly, simply perking an eyebrow.

“I mean, there ain’t no way--that can’t be---unlikely that--I mean… y’know?” Jazax stammered, looking increasingly flustered.

Zami cocked his head to the side, watching the goblin quickly grow very anxious. He even started to nervously wring his hands.

“Well then,” The banker cleared her throat, unfazed by the scene, “I believe that would be the source of your confusion. Perhaps you should speak to this person and resolve this matter.”

Jazax furrowed his brow, turning away from the banker and walking over towards the water’s edge. Zami followed him, both curious and concerned for his friend.

“Ya seem nervous,” Zami commented, stating the obvious to get the ball rolling.

“Yeah, no kiddin’ huh?” Jazax scoffed, “I can’t believe this. I really can’t believe it.”

“Dat someone stole ya money?”

“Not just someone,” Jazax sighed, glancing up at Zami, “There’s only one person who I ever woulda let anywhere near my money.”

“Syrise?” Zami cocked his head to the side, but Jazax shook his head.

“Nah, not her,” Jazax said before adding with a grin, “I learned my lesson. You don’t give women access to your money.”

“Women?” Zami blinked, “Wait, do ya mean---”

“Oh, yeah,” Jazax groaned, covering his face with his hand, “It’s definitely gotta be her. It’s gotta be Tezz.”

Jazax lowered his hand, looking over at Zami with a pained expression.

“Y’know,” He sighed, “My insane ex-wife?”


	104. Suffocation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who put forth kind words today! I appreciate it so much! I’m so happy that so many people enjoy my writing. It makes me feel like it’s worth it to keep working at it :)

Mythene paused to pinch the bridge of her nose, as Cassene fussed beside her.

“Look what you’ve done to your beautiful hair,” She whined, “You’ve chopped it all off. Why would you ever do such a thing?”

“It was cumbersome,” Mythene sighed as she swatted her sister’s hands away from her hair, “Can we please focus on the task at hand, sister? I have to find my student. Zami must be very---”

“You looked much prettier with your hair long,” Cassene grumbled, crossing her arms.

“It is still quite long,” Mythene pointed out, “It still passes my shoulders. Now, will you---”

“So does Malfurion’s but you would hardly call his hair long.”

Mythene sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose again. She’d never realized how annoying her sister was. Or maybe she had, but had previously been just as annoying and therefore unable to notice? If this was what her company was like, she was beginning to feel that she owed Zami another apology.

“You know, Daras isn’t going to find your new hairstyle to be very attracti--”

“I have no interest in what Daras thinks,” Mythene snapped.

“Oh? You don’t?” Cassene perked an eyebrow, setting a gloved hand against her hip, “Then you surely won’t be bothered that he’s approaching us right now.”

“What?!” Mythene looked up hastily, panic visible on her face.

As soon as her silver eyes locked with Daras’ golden ones, she felt an anchor drop in her stomach. Dread simmered through her veins and she quickly found herself locked choosing between whether to flee or faint. But before she could decide, Daras was already kissing her hand.

“If it isn’t the lovely Moonshadow sisters,” Daras said as he then turned and kissed Cassene’s hand, with much less investment.

“What sort of greeting is this?” Cassene laughed, pulling her hand away just before his lips could make contact.

“Ah, forgive me. It is a habit among the humans I must’ve picked up during my stay in Stormwind,” Daras chuckled, standing up straight, “It is custom for a human man to bow and kiss the hand of a woman he finds beautiful.”

“Always with your flatter’s tongue, Nightwing,” Cassene shook her head in amusement, glancing over at Mythene with a mischievous smile, “Isn’t he charming?”

“...Sure,” Mythene clenched her jaw, “Very quaint.”

“Sister, you’ve been so eager to see Daras again, haven’t you?” Cassene teased, making Mythene hiss quietly.

“Truly?” Daras smiled, not catching onto the mockery going on behind the scenes, “I’ve been very eager to see you again, as well, Mythene. It has been far too long since we’ve spoken.”

Two centuries wasn’t long enough, Mythene thought to herself as she smiled politely.

“Why, Mythene was even just talking about you, in fact,” Cassene elbowed Mythene’s side, barely holding back a snicker, “She was wondering what you’d think of her new haircut.”

Mythene glared daggers at her sister, not even bothering to hide it, and Daras laughed at the sight of the little exchange.

“No need to tease her so, Cassene,” Daras said in a faux-stern tone, “Mythene knows I would find her beautiful even if she shaved her head bald.”

Mythene held back the desire to cringe. Goddess, why did he always have to be like that? It hadn’t always been so dreadful between them. Once, so long ago, they’d been friends. Back before he began his ceaseless and terribly annoying quest to claim her for himself.

“Ah, the flower of romance never blooms so sweetly as it does for young lovers,” Cassene said in a dramatic tone, as though she was reading off a line of poetic verse.

She then shot Mythene a dastardly smile, clearly having no intent to stop her mockery any time soon. Cassene knew full well how uncomfortable Mythene was with Daras’ heedless advances. He was so graceless in how he went about it, as well, that it was no wonder his only friends were animals. And as skilled a tamer as he was, Mythene had no desire to join his little menagerie.

“Since you’re so taken with him, sister,” Mythene squinted at Cassene, “Why don’t you simply take him? I have more important matters to attend to.”

“Sister, don’t be rude,” Cassene tsked, “Your little pet can wait.”

“Ah, you’ve gotten a pet?” Daras perked up, “What sort? A frostsaber? Do you need any help training it, perhaps?”

“Oh, her pet is far too stupid to train,” Cassene laughed, “I don’t know why she even bothers to try. That beast is far too savage to---”

Mythene didn’t realize what she’d done until she withdrew her hand. Once the gravitas---and the red mark upon Cassene’s cheek---truly set in, her eyes went wide. She nearly gasped in surprise, but instead found her jaw clenched in anger. Both Daras and Cassene stared back at her in shock. Mythene cleared her throat and quickly regained her composure.

“Never insult my student again,” She ordered quietly.

“You would strike me, your own sister, for the sake of that… that beast?” Cassene wrinkled her nose, “Don’t you remember what it is?”

Mythene was a bit surprised by her indignation on Zami’s behalf, but found it was much easier to ignore that in favor of her irritation, considering she was in the poor company of the two people she disliked the most.

“I know full well what he is,” Mythene furrowed her brow, “And I also know he’s far more sufferable than you.”

“Wait, what’s going on here?” Daras quirked an eyebrow, “I’m a little lost. Are you two talking about an animal or a person?”

“I’m not sure Mythene knows anymore,” Cassene hissed, rubbing her cheek, “Perhaps her druid brain has become confused. She can no longer see things clearly.”

“If your vision is what’s true, then I’d rather be blind,” Mythene huffed, turning on her heel, “Now, if you will excuse me, I have far more important business to attend to.”

“Finding your little troll is important business now?” Cassene scoffed, even as Mythene began to walk away.

“Ah? Troll?” Daras blinked, “What’s this about a troll?”

“Mythene here believes she could actually teach a troll to become a druid,” Cassene revealed, loud enough for Mythene to clearly hear, “Isn’t that just a laughable notion?”

“I don’t know,” Daras said with a shrug, “Mythene is quite capable. If anyone could do it, I’d say it would be her. She’s really quite an amazing woman.”

Mythene rolled her eyes so hard that she thought they might roll into the back of her skull. Always, always, always with the lines. Yet for all his pretty words, he could never just speak truly. He would never be able to say what he truly thought, or truly felt. It was so sickeningly like her father. Better to keep quiet and not make too much of a fuss. Nevermind with foolish emotions or silly little sentiments. That lack of openness; she hated it. And as much as she struggled, she couldn’t resist falling victim to it herself. It was suffocating.


	105. Family Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not to be confused with Chapter 3: Reunion.

Zami crouched at the water’s edge, watching the orange and red leaves fall from the trees, and desperately wishing he had his collapsible fishing pole on him at the moment. Beside him, Jazax paced anxiously and muttered to himself, clearly off in his own head. Zami supposed could understand that. He’d never met Jazax’s ex-wife, but he’d certainly heard some horror stories about the woman. And from what he’d heard, this wasn’t even the first time she’d run off with his money.

Zami glanced up at the sky, noting the deep purple hue. It was a lot like Moonglade here in Darnassus, but then he supposed that was only natural. Evening had sunk in, and the dark purple sky was only getting darker. It only made the rising Pale Lady all the more visible. No wonder the night elves though the moon was a god. Then again, with what he’d seen, maybe they weren’t all too off base…

“There you are,” A familiar voice spoke up in Orcish, breaking him from his thoughts. 

Zami turned to look over his shoulder, as Mythene approached. The first thing he noted was that she looked a bit weary. Zami frowned, suddenly feeling rather guilty. She must’ve been worried, he concluded. But then he noticed Mythene was alone, and perked an eyebrow curiously. Maybe it wasn’t his fault after all? 

“Where did you go?” Mythene asked, standing next to him and crossing her arms lightly, a casual gesture rather than a scolding one.

“Uhh, dat priestess lady wanted to talk,” Zami gestured towards the Temple of the Moon across the other side of the pond, “She didn’t seem like she’d let me wait for ya, so…”

“Ah, I see,” Mythene said as she looked over towards the Temple with a subtle frown, “I suppose she wished to discuss your… encounter.”

“Yeah,” Zami nodded, “Uh, by da way, what happened to ya sista?”

Mythene remained silent, simply glancing down at her hand for a moment, before tucking it back under her arm. Zami perked an eyebrow. If he was left to decipher the meaning behind her gesture, then he’d never be getting an answer. Before he could say anything, Jazax paced right into Mythene’s side, stumbling into her. As soon as he looked up to see what he’d run into, he groaned.

“Oh, great! Just what I need! More women...” He sighed, earning a scowl from Mythene.

“Remind me again why the Sentinels let you past Rut’theran Village?”

Jazax just waved a hand at her dismissively and went back to pacing, making sure to adjust his path to avoid colliding with her again. Mythene perked an eyebrow, looking over at Zami curiously.

“What’s his problem?” She asked as Zami stood up.

“Uhh, he got robbed,” Zami shrugged.

“Curse that woman!” Jazax spat, shaking a fist at the sky, “I’m gonna make that crazy broad wish she never met me!”

Mythene put her hands on her hips, giving Zami another glance.

“He got robbed by his ex-wife,” He elaborated, earning a furrowed brow from Mythene.

“I see. That is… unfortunate.”

Mythene shifted uncomfortably for a moment.

“Well then,” She cleared her throat, “Shall we get going?”

“Goin’ where?” Zami cocked his head to the side.

“Home.”

After allowing Jazax to get the rest of the pacing out of his system, Mythene led them to the outskirts of the gate of Darnassus, and Zami couldn’t help looking around curiously. Autumn trees of red and orange were as far as the eye could see, scattering their leaves in a brisk evening breeze. Even he, who wasn’t really a fan of trees, had to admit it was all rather beautiful. 

“Ah, yes, I nearly forgot,” Mythene perked up, reaching into her vest pocket.

She lightly poked at the sleeping Zeni, who hissed tiredly at her.

“I have a surprise for you, Zeni,” Mythene smiled.

Zeni sat up in her hand curiously, hissing excitedly. Mythene chuckled and began to stride away from the cobbled road. Zami and Jazax exchanged curious glances before following her. They crossed a little archway beside the road and entered into a little grove.

“Zeni, I’d like to introduce you…” Mythene began as she set Zeni on the ground, “...to your family.”

The grove was full of lashers with big round pink petals and spiky stem bodies. They looked exactly like Zeni. Mythene smiled as Zeni tried to excitedly run off to greet the other lashers, but she caught it before it could get too far.

“Hold on a moment, little one,” She chuckled, “Let me disenchant you.”

After she returned Zeni back to its normal size, it was still a little smaller than the others because its body had been shortened due to that incident back in Stranglethorn, but they were all definitely the same species.

“Alright, little one,” Mythene said as she let Zeni loose, “Go and meet your family.”

Zeni hissed excitedly and flung itself into the throng of lashers, who all joined into a chorus of excited hissing. The other lashers rubbed their vine-arms over Zeni’s body, curiously poking and prodding the newcomer. As eager as always, Zen did it right back to them, just as curiously.

“Huh,” Jazax spoke up, “It’s like a family reunion or something.”

Mythene nodded, a warm smile on her lips.

“Let’s give them some time to get to know each other,” She said, still smiling, “We’ll return for him tomorrow.”

Mythene then led them all back out of the clearing, to the road. They continued for a few minutes, to a cabin just around the bend from the gate of Darnassus. Zami wasn’t sure what he expected Mythene’s home to be like. Honestly, he’d kind of expected she lived inside of a tree. That seemed to be awfully popular in Darnassus, from what he’d seen. But it was just a quaint little wooden cabin.

The cabin was overgrown with moss and ivy, and the red-orange leaves had scattered across the weathered purple-tiled roof. A warm light shone from the circular windows, and wisps of smoke billowed from the little chimney atop the roof. Zami perked an eyebrow curiously, wondering if someone else lived with her. Her sister, maybe? He assumed his question would be answered when Mythene opened the little wooden door, which creaked as it turned.

As soon as the door was open, the smell of something cooking washed over them. Sure enough, the cooking pot was bubbling away by the fire. As they stepped inside, Zami was hit in the face by hanging dried spices. Jazax snorted in amusement at the sight, quickly looking away when Zami scowled down at him.

“An’da?” Mythene called in the direction of the hallway, taking off her backpack and setting it on the floor next to the table, “Ana an’da?”

They all waited quietly for a moment, awaiting a response. But there wasn’t a sound, aside from the bubbling cooking pot and the crackling fire. Shifting awkwardly, Mythene looked over at Zami and Jazax.

“I’m sure he’s just---”

“Bandu thoribas, ashte’rodne!” A man suddenly cried, leaping out of the shadows and tackling Zami.

A moment later, a massive white bear was looming over him and roaring in his face. Zami cringed as the bear’s hot spittle hit his cheek, but resisted his instinct to attack.

“An’da!” Mythene called, hurrying over, “Ash’ana thero’shan!”

Mythene set a hand on the shoulder of the white bear and he finally looked up at her. A moment later, the bear shifted back into a night elf. He had his long white hair in a braid, and his untrimmed beard was long. One look at the man’s lavender face, which was marked with red leaves, and it was obvious. The resemblance was clear.

It was another family reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An'da: Father/papa  
Ana an'da: My father
> 
> Bandu thoribas, ashte’rodne: Prepare to fight, ugly
> 
> Ash’ana thero’shan: This is my student


	106. Change

Zami and Jazax sat in the kitchen at the little table. It looked like they’d both gone inside of a funhouse. Zami was much too big for the table, and Jazax was much too small. They sat in awkward silence, looking about and trying not to listen in. It was very hard not to, considering how loud the voices were carrying from the other room.

“Father, you’re being completely unreasonable here,” Mythene sighed, speaking in Darnassian, “I assure you---”

“Unreasonable?! You are the one who brought this Horde scum to my home, and you call me the unreasonable one?!”

“Father, don’t be---”

“You are a traitor to the Alliance! Cavorting around with members of the Horde, like some kind of---”

“But, I told you! Zami is a member of the Cenarion Circle, inducted by Keeper Remulos himself! And I am his teacher! Not to mention Malfurion and Tyrande have granted--”

“Since when are you a teacher, Mythene?!”

“Since I--”

“You insult the memory of your brother’s death with this little charade! Or do you intend to kill this student as well?!”

Mythene didn’t respond immediately, giving Jazax time to clear his throat.

“Boy, am I glad my Darnassian is too rusty to understand most of this,” He chuckled awkwardly in Orcish, turning to Zami, “How ‘bout you? You look like you just heard something dodgy.”

“Yeah,” Zami nodded uncomfortably, “I did.”

He didn’t really feel like elaborating exactly what he’d heard. That comment was definitely a step too far. He was kind of getting annoyed, to tell the truth. Just what kind of father was this guy? He knew from what she’d said prior that her father wasn’t the nicest guy, but at least Jumi pretended to be.

After a moment, Mythene’s father sighed loudly, the sound grating Zami’s last nerve.

“I see you still haven’t grown up, Mythene,” He scolded, “You’re such a child, especially compared to your sisters. Even little Syrene is the leader of something, traitor or otherwise.”

At this point, Zami’s patience was at its end and he stood up, fully intent to give this guy a piece of his mind. But Jazax grabbed his arm and shook his head quickly.

“This ain’t really any of our business, buddy,” Jazax frowned.

“Yeah, but…” Zami furrowed his brow, looking in the direction of the hallway.

Before he could even parse together the right words to properly convey what he was feeling, Mythene’s father spoke up again.

“Oh, don’t start crying now. You’re only proving my point.”

At this, Zami and Jazax exchanged glances. Jazax quickly released his grip on Zami’s arm and held up his hands defensively.

“Alright, alright, go ahead,” He nodded, “Do what you gotta do.”

Zami entered the hall and beelined for the room he had heard the voices come from. Just before he reached the door, it opened. Mythene’s father stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him, and then turned to face Zami. The night elf looked at him flatly, seeming almost unimpressed, before he turned away and began to head for another room. Zami scowled at him, fists clenching, and went to say something. But he froze upon hearing Mythene’s soft crying coming from the other side of the door.

In that instant, he had to make a choice. Go and speak to Mythene, or give her father a piece of his mind, as he’d intended to. After hesitating for a moment, Zami cursed under his breath and let the man go, instead approaching the door and knocking softly.

“Uhh, Mi’ten?” He called to her in Orcish, hearing her instantly go quiet from within, “You okay?”

After a moment, she finally responded with a slightly trembling voice, clearly trying to hide her crying.

“Go away, Zami.”

“Mi’ten…” He sighed, already familiar enough with her enough to know exactly what she was doing.

He figured it was a pointless gesture but tried the doorknob anyway. As expected, it was locked.

“Go away,” Mythene repeated, “I would like to be alone.”

“Too bad,” He chuckled quietly, leaning his back against the closed door, “I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

He heard her give a frustrated sigh and he chuckled again. Mythene remained silent, prompting Zami to speak after a moment. He wasn’t really sure what he was saying, it just sort of came out of his mouth before he could think much about it.

“When I was a little kid,” He began, “My fa’da told me somethin’ really stupid. Guess I was kinda stupid too, cause I believed him for a long time.”

Zami heard Mythene shift, leaning her body against the door on the other side. But she still didn’t speak, so he continued on.

“He told me ain’t nobody in da whole world ever gonna do nothin’ for me. And, y’know? He was kinda right. Nobody really cared much what I did. Not my tribe, or my so-called friends, and ‘specially not my family.”

Zami frowned, looking down as he reflected on his lifetime of loneliness. After a moment, Mythene finally spoke up.

“...And how did you come to decide he was wrong?” She asked quietly, voice still wavering lightly.

“Well,” He paused to stroke his chin, “I guess… I met you?”

At this, Mythene scoffed.

“Oh, please. I know my presence was not any sort of comfort when we met,” She sighed, “I was… unbearable.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” Zami agreed, unable to resist a grin.

“...Right, and how exactly did that help you in any way?”

“You changed,” He said with a shrug, the words coming easily, “And then I guess that’s when I realized it. That it’s kinda more important to care ‘bout other people than worry if they care ‘bout you. Y’know?”

Mythene hesitated before responding.

“But why should you bother?” She asked, sounding more than a little bitter, “Why should you care about them if they won’t even give you the time of day?”

Zami shrugged again, despite knowing she couldn’t see the gesture.

“Well, ‘cause they can change.”


	107. Rusty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried doing a Halloween chapter. I really, really did. I sat here for 6 hours straight, writing and rewriting. But soon it became clear what the problem was. It was jarring, and it detracted from the main path of the story. So I decided I’d write a Halloween-themed one-shot instead, based off of one of my future story plans, about an Undead and a Worgen. But then I realized that would essentially destroy some really good story potential solely to create a Halloween one-shot, and so I have put that story on the back burner to become a full future project. Following this, I needed a day to retweak the story to remove the Hallow’s End bit.
> 
> TLDR: I tried writing a Halloween chapter, but it took away from the story. I then tried to make a Halloween one-shot, but saw too much potential in it and decided to make it a future fic.
> 
> And now back to our regularly scheduled program!

Zami furrowed his brow, watching Jazax cross his arms grumpily and almost seem to sink up into himself. Across from them, Mythene stared down with a stern gaze, which the goblin refused to meet.

“Okay, I know my Darnassian is a little rusty. I know, okay? But I’ll get back into the swing of it with a little bit of---”

“Practice?” Mythene finished for him, sliding the grammar book in front of him.

Jazax glared at the book like it owed him money and then turned his annoyance to the night elf holding the book.

“Look, sweetcheeks, I can already speak Darnassian. You don’t gotta treat me like this idiot here,” Jazax said with a nod towards Zami as he pushed the book back towards her.

Zami made a face at Jazax’s comment, but Mythene spoke before he even could get a word in.

“Are you literate?” She asked coolly, leaning back to look down her nose.

“Am I literate…” Jazax snorted incredulously, as though amused by the question.

“Well?” Mythene perked a silver eyebrow, “Are you?”

“Wait, you’re serious? Really? What kinda question is that, huh?” Jazax scowled, turning to Zami, “Can you believe this broad? The nerve.”

“Well, can ya?” Zami shrugged, watching Jazax’s expression go flat.

“Unbelievable,” Jazax muttered, sitting back in his seat, “You too? Jeez, never trust a guy who’s got it bad, eh?”

Zami just gave another shrug, smiling at Jazax innocently, as Mythene began to scribble something down on a loose paper. Then she set it out before Jazax and gestured to it.

“Can you read this or not, you little pest?” She asked impatiently, watching him like a hawk as he picked up the parchment.

Jazax looked at it for a moment, his purple eyes skimming over the symbols, before lowering the paper with his expression flatter than ever.

“Of course I can. And I ain’t little,” He grumbled, “I’m fun-sized.”

Zami leaned over to catch a glimpse of the parchment, which was rather difficult to do. It felt like there was barely enough of a chair to sit on in the first place, let alone lean over on it. It took a minute for him to translate in his head, but he was pretty sure it said something about a lemon. And possibly a bear.

Speaking of which…

Mythene’s father, who was named Caserion, entered into the kitchen. He looked at the three of them around the table, rolled his eyes, and approached the cooking pot. He gave the pot a quick stir with the wooden spoon before beginning to pour himself a bowl of stew. Giving another sideways glance in their direction, he then cleared his throat conspicuously, drawing everyone’s eyes.

“The Harvest Festival will begin tomorrow,” Caserion said in Darnassian, setting down the wooden spoon, “I do hope your heathen friends will make themselves scarce for the festivities.”

He turned towards the group before continuing.

“The Harvest Festival honors the fallen, and many of our neighbors have lost loved ones to their Horde brethren. Their presence will not be welcome.”

“Hey, don’t you throw me in with this lot,” Jazax spoke up, his Darnassian a little choppy but otherwise pretty well-pronounced, “I’m not with the Horde. What, do I look like one of those Bilgewater cretins?”

“That you do,” Caserion said, completely unfazed by the goblin’s Darnassian, and he turned to exit the room without another word.

“Da Harvest Festival, huh?” Zami spoke up in Orcish after a moment, breaking the silence that had settled in, “Is it dat time of da year already?”

“Goes by faster the older you get, huh?” Jazax chuckling, elbowing Zami’s side playfully, before adding, “I got a few people I wanna honor.”

“Yeah, same here, mon,” Zami nodded grimly, “A lot more dan last year…”

“An’da has a point, however,” Mythene frowned, leaning against the table, “It wouldn’t be wise for either of you to simply wander about, at least not during the Festival. Not when so many are in mourning for the lost.”

“I guess dat’s true but…” Zami trailed off, conceding her point even if he didn’t like it much.

The Horde was, no doubt, responsible for most of the recently dead. Not just in Darnassus, but all across the Alliance. Well, that and the Scourge, of course. And the Burning Legion. Not to mention the Scarlet Crusade. Plus the Twilight’s Hammer and the Old Gods. Actually, was the Horde even that much of a threat compared to all that?

“So, what, we’re just supposed to stay inside for the next week?” Jazax frowned, “Sounds awful boring…”

Zami nodded in agreement and Mythene gave an exasperated sigh, lightly pinching the bridge of her nose.

“I would think you would welcome the comforts of civilization after so long in the jungle,” She pointed out dryly.

Zami just shrugged, as it made no real difference to him, but Jazax put a hand on his chin.

“Well, I guess I have kinda missed my bubble baths…” The goblin mumbled, more to himself than any present company.

“Dat’s fine for ya, but I ain’t gonna sit here and just wait,” Zami sniffed, crossing his arms, “I'll just stealth, 'cause I always light a candle for Ran’do and ain’t nobody gonna stop me.”

“Who?” Mythene and Jazax asked in unison.

“Ran’do,” Zami repeated, slinging his thumb under the coarse twine of his necklace, “My friend.”

He pulled it out from under his leather cuirass, showing off the various different fangs and claws for a moment, before grasping the broken bit of troll tusk.

“Ah, yes,” Mythene nodded, wrinkling her nose a little as she eyed the necklace, “Your friend who lost a fan--tusk brawling for a woman’s hand.”

“Sure hope that ain’t the one he lost,” Jazax said with a nod towards the tusk in Zami’s hand.

“Nah, dis is da one I took when he died,” Zami said with a terse frown, rubbing his thumb over the weathered old tusk, “Somethin’ to remember him by, I guess.”

“How’d he die?” Jazax asked curiously, to which Zami just shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably.

“Same way everybody I care ‘bout dies,” He sighed bitterly, dropping the tusk, “I killed him.”


	108. Curiosity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took a few days! I’ve been having some technical issues with Chapter 107 on FF. It still isn’t resolved, even after re-uploading it several times. But I’m just going to press on!

Zami huffed impatiently, taking a seat on the floor by the fireplace. He scowled bitterly as he watched Mythene and her father get ready to head out, to pay their respects to the dead for the Harvest Festival. His eye caught Mythene’s, and she gave him a stern scowl before turning to pack up her offerings into a little woven pouch. Even despite his insistence that he could just stealth, she was adamant that neither he or Jazax was to leave the house until the Festival was over. And Zami wasn’t sure why he was even listening to her. Maybe it was that serious, worried look on her face, or the way she anxiously wrung her hands whenever she considered it. Or maybe she was just trying to please her father. Who knew?

“Tell them they’re forbidden from entering the bedrooms,” Caserion spoke up, grunting slightly as he packed his own pouch of offerings, “Nor are they allowed to start the fire.”

“An’da,” Mythene frowned, pressing her lips together tightly as she looked over to the other night elf, “You do know they can understand you…”

Caserion just grunted again, tying his pouch closed. Mythene sighed softly, tying her own pouch of offerings closed, and turned to look towards where Jazax and Zami were beside the cooking fire.

“Please,” She said to them in Orcish, “Do as he says, and cause no mischief while we’re gone.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jazax waved a hand dismissively, before grumpily crossing his arms.

“And no leaving the house,” She added, before turning to Caserion, who looked unimpressed.

“Must you use that vulgar tongue in this house?” He tsked before turning to the door.

Mythene frowned again, looking back once more to give the other two an apologetic look, before following him out. As soon as the door was shut, Jazax scoffed and uncrossed his arms.

“I dunno about you,” He said as he looked at Zami, “But I ain’t gonna sit around here all week long. If they don’t want no goblins around, then I won’t be a goblin. Simple as that.”

“Huh?” Zami cocked his head to the side, “What’cha mean?”

“I got me a plan, see?” Jazax got a mischievous glint in his eye and he moved over to the empty cooking pot, “Help me get this thing, would’ja pal?”

Zami quirked an eyebrow but stood up and went over to the cooking pot, pulling it down from the hook and setting it in front of Jazax. The goblin peered inside of the empty pot before nodding.

“Yeah, yeah, this’ll do nicely,” He said with a grin, before rubbing his hands together and cackling to himself.

Zami blinked, watching Jazax run and fetch something from his nearby pack. Then he extended his mechanical workstation before turning to Zami.

“Be a pal and put it here?” He said with a nod to the table.

Zami curiously obeyed, wondering where this was going. He was actually a bit worried, judging by the goblin’s grin, that he was going to end up making something explode. That was definitely the last thing they needed right now.

Jazax reached into his pack and pulled out a well-beaten toolbox. He set it on the workstation, flipped it open, and fished around for a moment. Then he pulled out a leather satchel, dumping its contents across the table. Zami could only guess but, at a glance, they appeared to be various alchemical bits and bobs. Dried bits of plant, vials of mysterious liquids, a couple odd-looking shriveled up organs---from animals… hopefully.

“Let’s see, let’s see…” Jazax mumbled, beginning to uncork vials and dump their contents into the cooking pot, “A little of this, a little of that…”

Zami looked into the pot curiously, watching the puddle of liquids inside begin to change colors and bubble with the more ingredients the goblin added. His anxiety about the end result of this mixture growing, he turned to Jazax nervously.

“Uhh, what is dis?” He asked, pointing to the pot, “What’cha doin’?”

“Makin’ a potion,” Jazax answered shortly, shoving something into the pot that Zami was fairly sure was a severed elven ear.

“Right, right…” Zami’s gaze drifted back to the pot, “And, uh, what’s it do?”

“Look, I kinda gotta concentrate, y’know?” Jazax glanced up at him, “This happens to be a pretty particular mixture.”

“It ain’t gonna explode, is it?” Zami asked bluntly.

“Nah,” Jazax shrugged, before pausing to glance up, “Well, I mean, unless I do it wrong. So, uh, you might wanna back up. Just in case.”

Zami frowned and took a wide step back. Then he looked around for a moment before his gaze caught on the archway leading into the hallway. He thought about it a moment, before his curiosity got the better of him.

“I’m gonna go look around,” He admitted frankly, almost wishing the goblin would advise him against such.

But Jazax just nodded.

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” The goblin mumbled, already engrossed in his work.

Zami stepped into the hall tentatively, wondering if he should resist the urge to be nosy. It was definitely tempting, though. In the entire time they’d known each other, Mythene had never really revealed all that much about herself. He knew she would never open up about herself willingly. He glanced at the door to Mythene’s bedroom, recalling the sound of her crying from the other side, and frowned deeply. Once he approached the door, however, he found that he hesitated once again. 

Zami stood outside the door for several moments, hand extended towards the doorknob. His curiosity gnawed at his insides, imploring him to at least just take a peek inside. But as tempting as it was, his hand soon lowered back down to his side, and he stepped away from the door. It was none of his business. Not his place. He found that he respected Mythene too much to invade her privacy in such a way.

But the same wasn’t true for Caserion. He didn’t respect that guy at all. And so that’s why he had no problem casually barging into the other bedroom.

Taking a quick look around, Zami noted there wasn’t much in the way of furniture. There was a simple bed, far too small as was the case with all elven beds. There was also a little table beside the bed, a nightstand perhaps, with a little drawer. On the other side of the room was a little bench and a little end table with a stack of books. A potted flower sat upon the windowsill. It was really a rather plain room.

Seeing nothing else of interest, Zami approached the beside. He tugged on it, but it didn’t budge. A lock? With an amused snort, he looked around the room quickly for a potential tool. Seeing nothing, he glanced aside and, clearing his throat, pulled on the drawer sharply. The swift force breaking whatever flimsy locking mechanism, the drawer then slid open easily. Zami then peered down into the drawer, spotting a few bits of cloth and a few spools of thread.

But his eye was instantly drawn to the little leather-bound book, a journal perhaps, hidden towards the back of the drawer. It nearly blended in with the wood, and he probably wouldn’t have even noticed it if his roughshod manner of opening the drawer hadn’t pushed it forward a bit. Zami picked up the book curiously, untying the binding leather cord around it, and flipped open to a random page...


	109. To Feel

“Enerion, are you paying attention?” Caserion glanced over at his son disapprovingly, “Keeper Remulos won’t take kindly to your distraction at your assessment tomorrow, you know.”

“Sorry, An’da,” The young boy said with a bow of his head, “I’m just so nervous. Do you really think he will say I’m ready to join the Cenarion Circle?”

“That I do, my son,” Caserion nodded, “Why, I daresay you’re even more ready than Mythene was at her assessment.”

Both males shared a chuckle, as Mythene crossed her arms from where she sat nearby.

“I didn’t even want to join the stupid Circle,” She muttered under her breath, glancing aside.

“What did you just say?” Caserion paused to scowl over at his teenage daughter.

Mythene just growled in frustration and stood up, giving a quick brush of the dirt from her trousers.

“Why do I even need to be here?” She asked, sounding terribly exasperated, “I’m not the one who has to prove myself. I’m going home.”

“Not so fast,” Caserion looked over at his daughter, just as she had turned to leave, “I want you to show Enerion your cat form.”

“Ugh, do I have to?” Mythene whined, crossing her arms, “It won’t make a difference. He’ll never learn.”

“Mythene,” Caserion said sternly, his tone itself a warning.

“Fine,” She sighed, throwing her hands up, “But then I’m going home.”

Enerion watched eagerly, eyes locked on his sister as her body contorted into that of a panther. It had lavender fur with frosted white tips.

“Whoa!” Enerion stood up excitedly, “That was so fast! I’ve never seen anyone shift so fast!”

Enerion excitedly turned to look up at his father.

“Not even you, An’da!”

Caserion chuckled, rustling his hand through his son’s milky white hair.

“Yes, Mythene has a real talent for it,” He nodded, “It’s almost a shame she didn’t join the Order of the Claw. But then, I intend for her to inherit my position as Archdruid of the Branch once she comes of age.”

The panther growled quietly and Caserion shot a glance of warning that drew obedient silence.

“Do you think I will be able to shapeshift one day, An’da?” Caserion asked, blinking up at his father innocently with hope in his eyes.

“Of course I do, my son. All druids can shapeshift,” Caserion patted his shoulder, “You may even join the Order of the Claw if you wish. You’re not my firstborn, so you are free to do as you wish.”

“But I want to be just like you, An’da,” Enerion beamed, “I’ll join the Order of the Branch too!”

Mythene growled again, shifting back to her night elven form. She glared up from where she leaned on her elbows and knees. She didn’t say anything, but her expression said more than enough. Caserion tsked at her, shaking his head slightly.

“Always so emotional, Mythene,” He sighed, “You wear your expressions too keenly. It will be quite inconvenient for you.”

Mythene clenched her jaw, deepening her scowl as an act of petty defiance. Caserion scoffed, perking an eyebrow at his ever-difficult firstborn.

“Suit yourself,” He tsked again, “You shall learn the hard way, then.”

Caserion turned and patted Enerion on the shoulder again, turning him away from Mythene.

“Come then, my son, and we will practice your---”

“There’s nothing wrong with having feelings, An’da,” Mythene called, causing Caserion to pause and glance back.

“Of course you think that,” Caserion nodded, “You’re still a silly, ignorant child. You don’t know any better.”

“I know there is nothing wrong with being true to myself,” Mythene countered, “Perhaps you’re the ignorant one?”

At this, Caserion furrowed his brow. It was one thing for her to be moody, such was the way of youth. But he would not tolerate such disrespect. He released Enerion beside him and began to stride towards his daughter.

“I also know it doesn’t inconvenience me as much as you say,” Mythene continued, although her confidence wavered as she backed away slightly, “I think you mean to say it is an inconvenience to you.”

Caserion shook his head as he grasped Mythene by the hair, pulling her so that she faced him directly. He glared down at her, and she winced but glared back. He was almost impressed by her rebelliousness. Almost.

“You should learn to watch what you say,” Caserion growled, “You owe me the proper respect as your father, elder, and teacher.”

Mythene clenched her jaw once more, baring her teeth in something almost like a snarl. After a moment, she finally lowered her gaze to the ground. Seeing his point was made, Caserion released her hair and turned away once more. It was good that she learned not to defy her superiors so openly, he thought to himself. He simply wouldn’t live it down if she treated Malfurion or Cenarius with such disrespect.

But then, as soon as he took a step away, she finally spoke.

“I hate you.”

Caserion looked ahead and saw Enerion flinch when he heard Mythene’s words. The boy looked anxiously between the both of them, his hands nervously clenching the sides of his leather breeches.

Caserion turned to face his daughter once more. It was a slow, calm gesture. Not angry nor disheartened, but certainly a bit amused.

“Hate me if you wish,” He said calmly, “It changes nothing. Your oh-so-precious feelings mean nothing.”

Mythene gripped at the ground beside her angrily, simply seething at the realization that, yes, this entire little hissy fit of hers meant nothing. Not to him, not to the world, not to anyone.

“Come then, Enerion,” Caserion said as he approached his son and patted his shoulder cheerfully, “Let’s go and practice your healing spells.”

“Yes, An’da,” Enerion responded quietly, giving his sister a nervous glance before shuffling after his father.

As Caserion led his son away and he lectured on about the basic principles of being a stellar healer, he could hear it. Even as they moved further away, still he could hear it. He could hear the sound of Mythene weeping softly, her voice carried by the wind.

And he felt nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it wasn't clear, this chapter is essentially what happened in the journal entry that Zami is reading.


	110. The Transformation

Zami furrowed his brow as he read, growing increasingly frustrated. By the time he finally finished reading the journal entry, his hands were gripping tightly to the leather sides of the little book. As he closed the book with a brisk snap, he considered Caserion very, very lucky.

Lucky that he happened to be out of the house.

He angrily threw the book back into the nightstand drawer and slammed it closed. A moment after he did, he heard a muffled boom come from the kitchen. Furrowing his brow, he hurried back out through the hallway and stopped in the archway leading to the kitchen. A light cloud of smoke surrounded the bubbling cooking pot, where Jazax was coughing and waving away the cloud with his hand.

“I wonder if I put the wrong amounts,” He pondered aloud, peering into the pot curiously before adding, “Actually, no wait, this looks right.”

“What in da name of da Loa are ya doing, mon?” Zami snapped, moving over beside him.

Jazax looked up at him flatly, perking a black eyebrow.

“What bee got in your bonnet?” He asked, “You’re lookin’ at me like I owe you money.”

“Ugh, it’s dat damn elf,” Zami huffed, crossing his arms grouchily, “Gettin’ on my last nerve.”

“Oh, I know,” Jazax nodded, turning to peer at the pot again, “She’s so annoying. Seriously, she thinks she’s---”

“Wait, what?”

“Err… what?” Jazax glanced up, “We were talkin’ about Mythene, right?”

“Uhh, no,” Zami furrowed his brow, to which Jazax held up his hands defensively.

“Hey, well, you can understand my confusion. The both of them are pretty terrible.”

Zami grunted, just leaning over towards the cooking pot. He wasn’t really sure what to make of the goo within.

“What’s dat?” He asked, keen to change the subject.

“Glad you asked,” Jazax grinned, apparently equally keen, “This baby’s the solution to all our problems.”

Jazax patted the side of the cooking pot proudly, and Zami perked an eyebrow curiously.

“Allow me to explain,” Jazax cleared his throat, “Now what would you consider our primary issue here?”

“We can’t leave da house?”

“Exactly. And why is that?”

“Uh, because we from da Horde?”

“Well, you are, yes. I’m technically not, but you can’t expect these guys to know the difference.”

“Right, uh, so…?”

“So…” Jazax grinned, getting that insane glint in his eyes like when he was making something explosive, “What if we weren’t?”

“Huh?” Zami cocked his head, “Weren’t… Horde?”

“Yeah, precisely!”

Zami blinked at the goblin, clearly not following. In response, Jazax groaned loudly and rolled his eyes.

“Okay, lemme see if I can put this in terms even you can understand, okay?”

Jazax clapped his hands together, thinking a moment, before he continued.

“Y’know how during Hallow’s Eve, all the innkeepers will get those enchanted buckets of candy and stuff?”

Zami blinked again, having no idea how this was related at all, but nodded.

“Well, sometimes, the enchantment goes off, right? And what happens then?”

“Uhh---”

“You sometimes get your body altered to appear like you’re another creature. Somethin’ spooky, like a skeleton, right?”

“Okay, but---”

“Well, this potion is essentially the same sorta thing. Same basic elements at work. Except with this potion, you can choose what you turn into, see?”

“Err, so it’s--”

“Basically it’s a potion that’ll allow you to look like you’re a night elf for a little while, alright? Get it, big guy? With this, we can just go out and about freely in Darnassus.”

Zami nodded absentmindedly as his brain buffered everything the goblin said. It didn’t help that Jazax tended to talk a mile a minute. Once it finally sunk in, his eyebrows rose.

“Huh, really? Does it actually work?”

Jazax immediately scowled, almost looking offended.

“Hey, whaddya tryin’ to say there, pal?”

“Uhh, nothing. Anyway, can we use it now?”

“Yeah, yeah, just gimme a second…”

Jazax grabbed an empty bottle off his workstation and shoved it into the goo, filling it up. Then he held it to Zami, who frowned at the unappetizing appearance of the potion.

“Oh, don’t worry about the taste,” Jazax said reassuringly, “It actually tastes a lot like peppermint.”

Zami perked an eyebrow at the oddness of that statement but nodded, taking the bottle. He swirled it around for a moment, eyeing it skeptically, before bringing it up to his lips. He winced as soon as he did. Well, it certainly didn’t smell like peppermint. Taking a deep breath, he tilted his head back and swallowed it in one go.

One coughing fit later, he glared over at Jazax.

“Dat don’t taste anythin’ like peppermint,” He growled hoarsely, to which the goblin shrugged flippantly.

“Hey, well you wouldn’t have drunk the thing if I told you it tasted more like orc sweat.”

Zami grunted, unable to effectively voice his displeasure as his voice felt even more hoarse. That potion stung a bit as it went down, too, and it was starting to give him a feeling almost like heartburn. He furrowed his brow, his stomach beginning to feel… strange. Zami put a hand over his stomach and groaned, leaning onto Jazax’s workstation with the other hand.

“I think I’m gonna be sick…” He managed to mumble, before he fell unconscious.

When he finally came to, he found he was laying back on the floor in front of the unlit fireplace. A clean shaven night elven man with ashy grey skin and short black hair sat cross legged beside him, propping up his particularly pointy chin with his hand.

“So, I take it this is your first time shapeshifting into another humanoid,” The night elf remarked in Orcish, unmistakably in Jazax’s voice.

“Huh?” Zami mumbled groggily, “Jaz... Jazax?”

“That’s my name, buddy,” The night elf nodded, “Gotta say, I wasn’t expectin’ you to faint like a damsel in distress or something. Guess I’m just lucky you didn’t fall on me, huh?”

Zami just blinked a few times, still getting his bearings, before he slowly sat up. He felt a bit… smaller. Just a bit. But it was noticeable enough. He furrowed his brow, looking at Jazax.

“You’re… an elf…”

Jazax grunted a little, clearly not very keen on that, and crossed his arms.

“Hey, well look in the mirror, buddy.”

Zami’s brow shot up in realization of what the goblin meant and scrambled to his feet. When he was standing, his new compactness definitely was more noticeable. It was like he was a whole head shorter, and it made him feel like he was a teenager again. He also didn’t like how… meaty his body felt. Almost blubbery. 

Jazax stood up as well, and turned over to his workbench, which he now had to bend over to use. He pawed around clumsily in the toolbox, which was now a bit too small for his elven hand, before pulling out a little mirror. Then he stood up and held it out to Zami.

Zami went to reach for it and froze, seeing his hand. But it wasn’t his hand. It was different. It had a bunch of little fingers, four of them in total. And his skin wasn’t teal anymore. It was a more ashen blue. And he didn’t have any fur. Anxiously, he snatched at the mirror. His fingers were weird to move, so he just scooped the mirror into the palm of his hand and brought it up to his chest, peering down curiously.

Zami’s eyebrows---which were now massive and more of a pinkish-red---shot up as soon as he saw himself. The first thing he noticed was how small his nose was now. The second thing he noticed was that his tusks were missing. The third thing he noticed was that his eyes were now empty glowing orbs of a pale golden color.

And the fourth thing he noticed made him quickly slap his hand against his chin, as though he needed to feel it to prove it was real. But there was no mistake. Even though, despite all his best efforts, he’d never been able to grow one. But now there it was. 

He finally had a beard!


	111. Just Put Some Pants On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Caserion’s things are shamelessly stolen.

“Uhh, are ya sure dis is a good---”

Zami was cut off as a scratchy hempen tunic was thrown at his face. He reached up, trying desperately to grasp at the coarse fabric, but he still wasn’t very used to having so many fingers. It made him feel like an octopus or something. After a moment of struggling, he managed to wedge his hand into the tunic and lower it. He only had a moment to scowl over at Jazax before a matching pair of leather trousers blocked his view.

“Ugh, Jaz…” He grumbled, quickly moving to repeat the previous gesture.

“Quit complain’ already and just get dressed,” Jazax said as he continued to dig through Caserion’s closet, “...less you’d rather run around lookin’ like you got stuck in hand-me-downs.”

His face finally free and clear, Zami glanced down at his own worn clothes curiously. The changes to his body shape made his pants much too long, his shirt far too tight, and his ankle cuffs rather bizarre. He hoped the damage wouldn’t be permanent. Jazax didn’t have such a concern, being that he’d apparently removed his priest robes before drinking the potion. Nice of him to give me a warning, Zami thought to himself as he began to strip.

“Jeez, this guy dresses so lame…” Jazax frowned, picking up a pair of shorts curiously, “And why is everything so dang scratchy?”

“I dunno, mon, I kinda like dem,” Zami said with a shrug before stepping into the scratchy leather pants, “Kinda reminds me of what Mi’ten wears.”

“Betcha wish those were her pants you were gettin’ into, huh?” Jazax quipped with a perked eyebrow.

Zami shot a glare over across the room, which Jazax quickly deflected by turning his attention back to the closet. A beat passed in silence as Zami quickly turned his attention to pulling the scratchy tunic over his head, glad it could hide his blush for a moment.

“...Betcha never expected to be gettin’ in her dad’s pants instead,” Jazax added with a snicker.

Zami pulled his head through the collar of the tunic and, before even pulling the shirt down over his stomach, reached over to grab a nearby book on alchemy. He tossed it in the direction of Jazax’s head, equally surprised as the goblin when it actually met its mark. Jazax leaned back to look over at him with another cocky perked eyebrow, even as he rubbed the back of his head.

“Just put some pants on, mon,” Zami grumbled, glancing aside and trying not to let the teasing get the better of him.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m goin’...” Jazax said as he finally settled on a robe---probably the only one in the closet that was made out of cotton instead of coarse linen.

As Jazax began to dress himself, Zami leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. But as he waited, he suddenly got an idea how to turn the tables back.

“So, uh, by the way, Jaz...” Zami cleared his throat, looking away nonchalantly and trying not to crack a smile.

“Huh? What now?” Jazax turned towards him, the robe still over his head.

“Have ya, uh, spoken to Syrise at all?” He asked coolly, trying not to laugh when he saw his friend flinch.

“Uhh…. not… exactly,” Jazax said with a little nervous laugh, “I’ve, uh, been kinda busy…”

“Yeah, busy, huh?” Zami perked an eyebrow, “Too busy for da woman ya love?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Jazax said as he pulled the robe’s collar down past his head, “Who said anythin’ about lo… err, that, huh? Huh?”

“Well what would ya call it den?” Zami asked with a shrug.

Jazax sighed, shrugging a bit right back. He was quiet for a minute before turning to Zami, who was smoothing down his scratchy tunic.

“She smells nice,” He said abruptly, causing Zami to look up at him with a perked eyebrow.

“Huh?”

“Syrise,” Jazax said, looking down, “She smells nice, y’know?”

“Uhh…?”

“Y’know that smoky kinda smell that sticks with you after you stand next to a fire? She’s kinda like that. But also, kinda like bubble bath. And nitroglycerin. Oh, and those drinks with the fancy little umbrellas.”

Zami looked over at his friend with a quizzical expression.

“Dat just… sounds like all da stuff you like.”

“Yeah,” Jazax nodded, adding nothing further.

Zami said nothing further either, just pondering on that for a minute. He supposed, in his own way, that may as well be Jazax’s confession of love. He knew the goblin couldn’t be speaking literally---after all, he knew full well that Syrise always smelled of sweaty leather. But even he could see that it meant a little bit more, him saying that she essentially reminded him of everything he liked. Except money, of course. He was a goblin, after all, and nothing could ever replace cold, hard cash.

As the two of them finished dressing, Jazax cautiously set a pair of Caserion’s leather boots in front of him, clearly wary of Zami’s reaction. But Zami was too distracted by his thoughts, that he didn’t even realize he was silently going along with it until he picked up the second boot, the first already worn. His now-oversized eyebrows shot up upon realizing that, for the first time in his entire life, he was wearing a shoe. He peered down at his elvish leg like it was about to sprout tentacles or something, and Jazax snickered quietly from beside him.

“Don’t worry, they’re harmless,” He said with a grin, to which Zami just felt at the boot curiously.

“It feels weird…” Zami mumbled.

“Eh, you’ll get used to it,” Jazax said with a shrug, standing up, “Trust me, I didn’t even wear shoes until I was twelve years old or so.”

Zami looked up with a perked eyebrow and Jazax shrugged again.

“Nobody felt like givin’ me any,” He said nonchalantly, “Anyway, hurry it up a little, huh? We should probably get outta here before those two come back. I doubt Mythene’s cranky dad would give us two seconds to explain anything before he’s rippin’ our throats out.”

Zami nodded, looking down and watching as his foot disappeared into the leather boot. Once he’d pulled it all the way on, he stood up and took a tentative step forward. The sensation was an odd one, to be sure. It was like walking around on a pair of books or something. Still, walking with shoes on was easier to adjust to than his squished new body had been.

“Dis is crazy…” Zami mumbled, taking a moment to reflect his situation.

“Huh? What is?”

“I mean… I’m an elf now!”

“Uh huh…”

“In Darnassus!”

“Right…”

“Wearin’ shoes!”

“Havin’ a bit of culture shock, huh?” Jazax grinned, patting Zami on the arm, “Well, don’t worry. This is all temporary, remember?”

Zami nodded, quietly feeling a little relief that everything---well, most everything---would be back to normal soon enough.

“And speakin’ of temporary, time is money!” Jazax said as he crossed his arms, “So let’s get goin’ already!”


	112. The Fallen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long. My allergies have been killing me lately and I’ve barely wanted to get out of bed for the past week. I even temporarily lost my hearing!
> 
> I decided to kind of smush the Harvest Festival with a bit of Day of the Dead, as you don’t actually get to do that much during the Harvest Festival beyond honoring Orgrim or Uther, and I wanted to go for a broader “honoring the dead” scenario.

To his surprise, Zami found that now having a total of five fingers served as a bit of an advantage. When the vendor asked how many candles he wished to buy, he needed only hold up his hand. After he bought his candles, he approached where Jazax was waiting, with his own three candles.

“Got everything?” Jazax asked in slow Darnassian as he looked around.

“Yeah,” Zami nodded, “What are you looking for?”

“Some place for us to set up,” Jazax answered, still looking about, “Since we don’t have a grave to go to, we can really just set up anywhere.”

“I don’t think any of these guys even have graves,” Zami mumbled, looking at his candles, “Well, maybe except for my brothers…”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Jazax frowned, “Oh! Look, there’s a spot over there.”

Zami followed Jazax over to a small clearing where there was a moss-covered stone bench. It was probably the only one near the cemetery that wasn’t occupied by a group of mourners. The two of them quickly set up their respective candles on the bench, offering whatever little tokens and mementos they had brought with them. Zami took off his necklace, setting the broken tusk beside one of the candles. Jazax, meanwhile, set a rusty engineer’s pin alongside one of his candles. When the two of them were finished, they sat back and looked at their roughshod little shrines.

“Wish I had more to remember ‘em by,” Jazax mumbled, slipping into Orcish.

Zami furrowed his brow, nudging him with his elbow.

“Darnassian,” He whispered, and Jazax nodded, realizing his slip up.

“I just mean… you know?” Jazax frowned.

“Yeah, I know,” Zami nodded solemnly, looking back to the shrines, “Should we light them now?”

Jazax nodded back, and they both moved to light their respective candles. It was tradition to always light the candles in order of the deaths. Zami and Jazax exchanged glances upon recalling this.

“Uh, who died first for you?” Zami asked, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“Zeek,” Jazax answered tersely, “Back during the Second War.”

“Oh, that’s right…” Zami frowned, “I always forget you were even in that war.”

“Yup,” Jazax glanced aside uncomfortably.

Zami cleared his throat, rubbing his neck awkwardly as Jazax leaned forward to light the first candle.

“Guess that means you’re pretty old,” Zami mumbled, earning a scowl from Jazax.

“Hey, I’m only ten years older than you, buddy,” Jazax grumbled back.

“Ugh, then you’re practically as old as my mom,” Zami cringed, earning a punch in the shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, well neither of us are even half as old as Syrise or Mythene,” Jazax pointed out, “And we’ll die way before they do.”

Zami grunted, not quite willing to deal with that uncomfortable fact. Or the fact that he technically had already died.

“So what happened?” He asked quickly, eager to change the subject.

“Huh?”

“Your friend,” Zami nodded towards the lit candle, “Zeek?”

“Ah…” Jazax frowned, looking at the candle, “Yeah, Zeek… Zeek Rapidsnap.”

Jazax was quiet for a minute, and Zami was almost going to change the subject again before Jazax finally spoke up again.

“He, uh, got shot. During the attack on Ironforge,” Jazax scratched his chin awkwardly, “We weren’t even on duty. We’d just gone to Loch Modan to get some water for this missile we’d made. Oh, man, what was it called…”

“Water?” Zami cocked his head to the side, “”What for?”

“The cooling ports,” Jazax shrugged, “The missile had cooling ports to delay th---oh, right! The Big Mama! That’s what we called it!”

“Big Mama?” Zami chuckled, “Weird name.”

“Nah, you should’ve seen the thing,” Jazax grinned, “That baby would have blown a hole right through the mountain.”

Jazax’s smile slowly fell as he recalled what happened next.

“We, uh, never got to fire it. We ended up finding this lodge of high elves---err, blood elves now, I guess. Farstriders, actually. They’d already joined up with the Alliance, so they attacked us on sight. And like I said. Zeek got shot…”

“Oh,” Zami frowned, “Dat’s rough…”

“Orcish,” Jazax pointed out, “But yeah, it was. Anyway, when’s your first death?”

“Huh? Oh, lemme think…” Zami glanced at his candles, recalling each person they were for before nodding slowly, “Ran’do. He died a few years after the Third War started.”

“From the war?” Jazax asked, but Zami shook his head.

“Not exactly,” Zami said as he rubbed his arm awkwardly, “After we left Darkspear Isle, I decided I wanted to see more of the world. I ended up in the Eastern Kingdoms around the time that Lordaeron fell to the Scourge. That’s when I met Ran’do. He was fleeing the destruction with his family…”

Zami paused, recalling the memory so vividly. It wasn’t even a decade ago, after all…

“Anyway, I ended up joining up with him and his family, guiding them back towards Booty Bay, so they could cross to Kalimdor. But I, uh, made a mistake.”

Zami’s gaze lowered, and he leaned forward, lighting the candle with the broken tusk next to it.

“I wanted to take a shortcut straight through Elwynn Forest, to get them south faster. But I couldn’t stealth them the whole time and we ended up running into some humans… Ran’do and his wife ended up dying in the fight. I managed to escape with their baby, but she got sick before we got Duskwood…”

“Jeez, you got dead babies and everything,” Jazax mumbled, “...This night isn’t gonna get much better, is it?”

They continued on, lighting each of their candles and telling a bit about each death. The third candle lit was one of Jazax’s friends, a pilot named Maliz Boltspark who died in a zeppelin crash a few years ago. And then Zami lit a candle for Zin’aka. Then he lit three more at once, for his three brothers. He wasn’t quite sure the exact order, so he went by when he heard of their deaths---all at once. Lastly, Jazax lit the final candle with the rusty engineer’s badge, which was for his friend Dezzak Topnozzle, who died fairly recently when Tanaris flooded during the Shattering.

When all the candles were lit, neither of them felt very happy. In fact, both of them felt a lot worse than they had before. It wasn’t exactly a joyous occasion, remembering all the dead people they’d cared about.

“Hey,” Zami said quietly, nudging Jazax lightly with his elbow, “Want me to go get an extra candle and light one for you?”

“Nah, I think I’m sick of this whole festival,” Jazax grumbled, shrugging his shoulders, “You wanna just get out of here?”

“Yeah,” Zami nodded, “Best to go before Mythene finds us out here or something.”

“Excuse me?”

Zami and Jazax both jumped with a start as they heard a familiar voice come from nearby. The both of them quickly looked up, seeing Mythene crouched in front of a grave not far from their little clearing. Both of them immediately went pale upon realizing she was staring at them, one silver eyebrow perked.

“Do I know you?” She asked slowly, standing up.

“Uhh, nope,” Jazax answered quickly, picking up his rusty badge and pocketing it, “We’re just two, y’know, random guys. Don’t mind us!”

“Your voice sounds familiar, sir…” Mythene said as she began to approach, “What did you say your names were?”

“We didn’t!” Jazax said, hurriedly pushing at Zami’s back, “Anyway, we’re leaving now! Bye!”

Mythene perked an eyebrow again, crossing her arms as she stood beside their makeshift shrine. Zami winced as he was pulled away, looking back over his shoulder at the shrine where his trophy necklace still sat.


	113. Bend or Break

Mythene watched curiously as the two odd men ran off, before reminding herself it wasn’t her place to judge. Perhaps they merely dealt with their grief for the fallen in such a way. With a gentle shrug of her shoulders, she began to turn away when moonlight struck something reflective below her. Curiously, she turned her gaze down towards the little shrine those men had set up, and she perked an eyebrow. A curious ring of assorted fangs, claws, and tusks was left below a lit candle.

At first, Mythene wrinkled her nose in disgust. But, at the same time, she couldn’t shake a nagging sense of familiarity. Extending her hand slowly, she hesitated for a moment before taking a hold of the worn leather band. She lifted it up slowly, examining the various fangs and claws as they shone in the moonlight. It appeared to be some kind of necklace.

“Mythene! There you are, you silly girl!” Caserion said loudly as he approached with his arms crossed, “What are you doing hiding over here?”

“Nothing, An’da,” Mythene said quickly, instinctively pushing her arm behind her back, “And I wasn’t hiding.”

Caserion perked an eyebrow, stopping to look down at the shrine those two men had left behind.

“What sort of person just does such a thing?” He scowled, “They should go to the proper grave.”

“Not all dead have a grave,” Mythene pointed out warily, instantly earning a silencing glare from her father.

“We would’ve buried her if those heathens had left anything to bury,” Caserion sneered, turning on his heel, “Now, let us return home. It is getting late, and I wish to retire.”

Mythene frowned but nodded, following along behind Caserion as led her to the path away from the cemetery. He talked on as they walked home, blathering on about whatever thought popped into his head. Anything to hear the sound of his own voice, Mythene quietly thought to herself. She wasn’t listening to his words, anyway, as she was busy tracing her fingers over the various bone pendants of the necklace. It was such a crude and curious thing, yet she couldn’t shake that strange feeling of affinity she felt whenever she looked at it.

Most curious, she mused, beginning to count the various bones. There was a boar’s tusk, a smooth crocolisk fang, a serrated tooth from a shark, a flat gorilla’s molar, and a yellowed great cat’s fang, among others. But the one that drew her curiosity most was the one she didn’t quite recognize. It was almost like the tusk of an elephant, but smaller and broken. Could it have been from a young calf, she wondered? No, even then, it was far too small. Perhaps some kind of pygmy breed? No, no, she had never heard of such a thing in all her time as a druid.

Then whatever was it?

“...Isn’t that right, daughter?” Caserion said, glancing back at Mythene with a perked eyebrow.

She gasped in surprise and hastily shoved the necklace into her pocket.

“Ah, um, y-yes,” She said with a nervous nod, hoping her father hadn’t seen.

It seemed he hadn’t, as Caserion smiled, looking quite pleased with himself, and turned to face forward again.

“I always suspected as much,” He said with a smile, looking up at the moon, “You’ve always been quite close. I suppose it was only natural.”

Mythene blinked, not really knowing whatever she’d agreed with, but shrugged and dismissed it. Probably just more stroking of his own ego, she thought to herself as she slipped her hand into her pocket. She continued to fondle the necklace, counting the different bone pendants as her father began to ramble about the weather.

“It’s the perfect time of year,” Caserion nodded, “Neither too hot nor too cold, and it scarcely rains.”

“Mmhm,” Mythene said absentmindedly as she pricked her finger on the jagged edge of a particularly sharp claw.

She hissed in pain, withdrawing her hand from her pocket and examined her wounded finger, which began to bleed. Frowning, she brought her other hand over the cut and took a deep breath, preparing to heal it, when Caserion stopped and looked back at her.

“Daughter,” He cleared his throat, suddenly looking unnaturally serious.

“Erm, yes, An’da?” Mythene furrowed her brow, hoping he’d turn around quickly so she could heal herself inconspicuously.

“Don’t you think three centuries has been long enough?” Caserion asked, bringing his hand up to stroke his chin, “Is there any reason to wait further?”

“Huh?” Mythene blinked in confusion, “Wait for what?”

“My point exactly,” Caserion nodded, “Why wait any longer?”

Mythene furrowed her brow, trying to retroactively somehow register whatever he’d been talking about prior. But she couldn’t think of anything but how her cut was stinging.

“Why don’t we arrange something for the end of the week?” Caserion suggested, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

Mythene nodded quickly. Perhaps it would give her time to figure out what exactly he was talking about in the meantime.

“I will invite Daras over to our house tomorrow, then,” Caserion nodded, looking quite pleased.

Mythene shuddered, feeling a complicated mixture of dread and curiosity. She already knew that whatever her father was talking about, she wouldn’t like it. Not if Daras Nightwing was involved somehow. But at the same time, she didn’t want to ask too many questions and make her obliviousness obvious, so instead she just nodded tersely. Caserion smiled, looking even more pleased, and finally turned around to continue along. Mythene leapt at the chance to heal herself and quickly did so as covertly as possible. Then she hurried to follow after Caserion.

“You know,” Caserion chuckled quietly, “I expected you would’ve put up much more of a fight. I know how you always despise my input.”

“I don’t despise your input, An’da,” Mythene frowned, “You give me good advice, sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” Caserion perked an eyebrow, glancing back.

“Often,” Mythene corrected, subtly wiping the blood from her healed wound onto her breeches.

“Hm, you don’t act like it,” Caserion muttered, looking ahead again, “The way you always tell it, I tortured you all throughout your youth.”

“That isn’t true,” Mythene sighed, “I was a rebellious child, but it was as you always said. I was naive, and I needed to learn to control myself. You were only seeking to help me.”

“Sometimes I wonder,” Caserion mumbled, barely audible, making Mythene perk an eyebrow.

“What do you mean, An’da?” She asked cautiously.

“I have been reconsidering much lately. I worry that perhaps in my haste to prepare you for the tribulations of life, I became one myself,” He admitted rather frankly, startling Mythene by the sudden openness, “I often wonder if losing your mother hardened me too much, and if I was too strict with you and your sisters.”

Mythene only listened silently, unable to fully register the concept of her father speaking about such intimate things as feelings, let alone expressing doubt in himself.

“I remember something Malfurion Stormage told me, many centuries ago,” Caserion continued, “The branch that does not bend with the wind shall break.”

“Yes, adaptability is an important skill for druids to learn,” Mythene agreed, but Caserion shook his head, “Versatility in one’s skillset---”

“I’m sorry, daughter,” Caserion interrupted, stopping in place and looking up towards the moon once again, “I’m sorry for teaching you not to bend.”


	114. Out Of Character

Zami anxiously stared at his Darnassian grammar book, trying to seem engrossed in his reading as he finished catching his breath. They’d rushed back to the house, and just in time too. No sooner had they crossed the threshold than their bodies began morphing back to normal. Once they’d hastily redressed in their own clothes, they’d rushed back to the kitchen and tried to make it look like they’d been there the whole time.

Jazax was doing a much better job at it, Zami thought. He looked, rather convincingly, like he’d been engrossed in tinkering with some robotic mass of metal and wires for the past several hours. The both of them said nothing as the front door opened and Mythene entered with her father. Caserion muttered something inaudible to Mythene, before disappearing down the hall.

“Oh, you’re back already?” Jazax looked up casually, lifting his goggles up onto his forehead.

Mythene looked momentarily dazed, like she hadn’t heard him at first, before snapping back to attention. Zami cocked his head from behind his book, watching without comment.

“Well, it seems like you two have been successfully keeping busy,” She said as she perked an eyebrow, “I presume everything has gone alright here?”

“Yup, you betcha,” Jazax nodded.

Mythene looked at him skeptically before glancing over to Zami, as if seeking confirmation from him. He blinked for a moment, before quickly nodding.

“Uh, yeah, it’s all good,” He said quickly.

“Hm, alright then,” Mythene nodded, before turning towards the hallway.

Yet, in the archway, she stopped just before disappearing, and turned back around with her hand on the doorframe.

“By the way…” She perked a silver eyebrow again, “You two didn’t leave the house, right?”

“Of course, of course,” Jazax answered first, waving a hand at her dismissively, “Now would you stop talking already, sweetcheeks? I need to concentrate.”

“You’re certain you didn’t leave?” Mythene asked again, looking more at Zami, “Not even once?”

“How would we not be certain?” Jazax snorted as he connected two different wires and the robotic mass twitched.

Zami went to voice his agreement with Jazax, to say they never left. But something about the way Mythene looked at him, her pale eyes searching him so deeply, that suddenly he felt very guilty at the idea of lying to her. It was a rather strange feeling. He hadn’t ever felt guilty about lying when it came to anyone except his mother. Unable to hold her gaze, he glanced aside.

“...Yeah,” He mumbled, “We left.”

Jazax immediately facepalmed as Mythene crossed her arms, leaning her shoulder against the archway.

“I already know,” She said with a nod of her head, “But thank you for your honesty, thero’shan.”

She reached into her pocket, withdrawing his trophy necklace. Jazax recognized it, realized they’d left it behind, and facepalmed a second time. Zami meanwhile just furrowed his brow, hoping she wouldn’t be too angry.

“A rather curious spell,” Mythene said as she twirled the necklace, bringing her other hand up to her chin, “How did you do it? Illusory magic? Or an enchantment?”

“Neither,” Jazax said proudly, unable to resist bragging, “It was a potion I made.”

“Ah? Is that so?” Mythene perked an eyebrow again, “I’m surprised you were capable of creating something that didn’t explode, goblin.”

“Who says it didn’t?” He grinned, earning a roll of the eyes.

Zami was a bit surprised by her lenient reaction, cocking his head to the side slightly. His dreadlocks hit against his cheek lightly, rattling the fetish in his hair. To say it was out of character was an understatement. The Mythene he knew was quick to scold and even quicker to do so when her instructions were ignored. And, in this case, they had deliberately disobeyed her every request. So why wasn’t she even slightly upset?

“Well, at least you didn’t make a mess,” Mythene sighed as she gave an exasperated shrug, “I suppose that counts for something…”

“Okay, what is dis?” Zami finally spoke up, his brow furrowed, “Why are ya actin’ so weird?”

“Hm?” Mythene turned to him, expression as innocent as could be, “Whatever do you refer to, thero’shan?”

“Dis,” Zami said as he gestured towards all of her, “Ya bein’ really… not-Mi’ten.”

“I am doing nothing of the sort,” Mythene sniffed, “Do not say such silly things.”

“Hey, yeah, this is kinda weird,” Jazax said as he set a hand on his chin, “She ain’t said one rude thing to me yet.”

“I am never rude,” Mythene said, tone only slightly defensive, “Anyway, I am going to retire to bed now. Goodnight to you both.”

Mythene disappeared around the corner, off into the dark hallway, before either of them could say anything further. They exchanged confused glances with each other before Zami set aside his book and stood up.

“Dat was… really weird,” He frowned, and Jazax nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, she was like a different person…” Jazax pondered, “Hey, I wonder if she got possessed by a ghost or somethin’ back at the graveyard.”

“I’m gonna go talk to her,” Zami said as he furrowed his brow once again, “Dis just feels strange…”

Zami entered the dimmed hallway and felt along the wall until he reached Mythene’s chamber door. He hesitated a minute, wondering if it was really a problem. Maybe she was just in a good mood or something? Yet he couldn’t shake this nagging feeling that something was wrong. And that was reason enough for him to knock on her door.

“Mi’ten?” He called quietly, “Can I talk to ya for a second?”

He waited for a response, but no sound came from inside. So he tried knocking again, but still received no answer. After a moment, he knocked a third time before pressing his ear up against the door.

“Mi’ten?” He called, a little louder than before, “Are ya in dere?”

Zami sighed after his fourth knock went in vain, still receiving no answer. His bad feeling was starting to get worse, and it was making him nervous. He stared at the door for a moment longer before looking over his shoulder uncomfortably. Well, he supposed if it was just to make sure she was okay…

Hesitantly, he set his hand on the doorknob.

“Uhh, Mi’ten?” He called one last time, “If ya don’t answer me dis time, I’m comin’ in…”

When he still got no response, Zami groaned quietly and turned the doorknob. It was unlocked, and clicked open. Zami paused for another moment, half of him desiring to flee while the other was passively burning with a quiet curiosity. And worry, of course. Swallowing his nervousness, Zami swiftly entered the room and shut the door behind him.


	115. Moonlight

Zami turned away from the door and looked about the unlit room. His gaze quickly caught on the open window, where the moonlight was streaming in. Mythene was leaning against the windowsill, staring out into the night. Zami’s breath hitched as he looked at her. If she looked pretty under the glow of sunlight, then she was nothing less than radiant under the light of the moon. It almost seemed to caress her lavender face in a soft white glow, and it made her silver hair sparkle like diamond.

And then Zami noticed what she was wearing. Or rather, what she wasn’t.

Her leather vest had been removed and set neatly upon the foot of her tiny bed, beside her white linen shirt. Zami immediately backed up against the door, worried he’d caught her in a state of undress. At this, Mythene’s ears twitched and she glanced back over her shoulder.

“Zami?” She perked an eyebrow, probably noting his panicked expression.

“Uh, I was just, uh…” Zami mumbled, hastily feeling for the doorknob, “D-Didn’t mean to disturb ya---”

“Hm, no, it’s alright,” Mythene sighed, turning away from the window, “I’m sure you were just concerned. I suppose I was acting rather strange...”

Zami blinked upon noticing she was still dressed, just that now she was wearing a sleeveless linen undershirt. He sighed in relief, leaning back against the door again, and Mythene perked an eyebrow once more.

“Hm? Why do you look so…” Mythene trailed off, glancing down at her shirt curiously.

She scoffed in amusement, glancing over towards her shirt on the bed, and then looked back at Zami.

“Ah, I see,” She chuckled, “Well, I suppose now you understand why it is considered rather rude to intrude upon a woman’s chambers unannounced.”

“Uhh, yeah I---wait, what?” Zami cocked his head to the side, “I knocked. Like four times. And I called ya name too…”

“Hm? You did?” Mythene rose her eyebrows, “I must not have heard you.”

“Got somethin’ on ya mind?” He asked slowly, leaning away from the door.

“I suppose you could say that,” Mythene sighed again, turning to lean on the windowsill once more.

Zami approached beside her and she scooted over slightly, tacitly signalling for him to lean down beside her. He did so, smacking his head on the top of the windowsill as he did. Mythene chuckled at his expense, resting her chin on her hand, before looking out to the night sky.

“What are ya lookin’ at?” Zami asked as he rubbed his tender forehead.

“The moon, I suppose,” Mythene shrugged a little, “It helps me to think.”

“Bout what?” Zami asked in a slightly quieter voice, setting his hands against the windowsill.

Mythene sighed, tapping her chin with her fingertips as she rested it upon her palm.

“My father said something very strange tonight,” She said with a frown, “As we were walking home…”

“Hm?” Zami furrowed his brow, “Did he make ya cry again? Cause I can---”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Mythene shook her head slightly, “He… apologized.”

“For?” Zami asked suspiciously.

“For everything, I think,” Mythene pursed her lips, “For, as he implied… breaking me.”

“Huh?” Zami scowled, “What in da name of da Loa does that mean?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Mythene said with a sigh, “But I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Mythene sighed again, just staring up at the moon. Zami glanced over at her, trying to focus on being sympathetic. Mythene was more important, after all. Though he still couldn’t ignore his growing annoyance at Caserion. That guy was really getting on his last nerve…

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Mythene mumbled, still looking up at the moon.

“Yeah,” He agreed, still looking over at Mythene.

Mythene glanced over at him, going to say something, but her words died on her lips as their gazes caught each other. They stared at each other for a moment, their faces inches from each other due to the proximity of both leaning in the windowsill. Then Mythene began to lean forward. A sudden burst of insecurity made Zami back away. As he did, his tusk caught on Mythene’s cheek, scratching her face.

“S-Sorry,” Zami mumbled, slinking back further.

“It’s alright,” Mythene said as she brought her hand up to her cheek, covering it as it began to bleed, “It was an accident.”

But despite her words, Zami only felt even more anxious. That he injured her only made him all the more uncertain, and he moved away from her.

“I, uh… I should go,” He mumbled quickly, ready to sprint for the door.

“Wait!” Mythene called after him, “Thero’shan---”

“Sorry bout ya face,” He quickly muttered as he reached the door, instantly regretting that particular choice of words.

“Would you just wait a second?” Mythene sighed as he grabbed the doorknob.

He tried to turn it, but found his hand had become much too sweaty for some reason. Quickly wiping his hand on his trousers, he then grasped the doorknob again and turned. But as soon as the door had opened, it closed again. He looked over beside him, seeing Mythene’s lavender hand pressed onto the door, holding it closed. Zami dared to give her a quizzical glance, immediately frowning when he saw the slight trail of blood dripping from the scratch at her cheek.

“Zami, wait,” Mythene said as she stared up at him with a determined look in her eyes.

“Sorry,” He mumbled again, leaning away from her on instinct.

“I need to know,” Mythene frowned, keeping her hand firmly planted on the door, blocking his escape.

“Know what?” Zami looked back at her, panic beginning to rise inside him again.

“What did she look like?” She asked, barely above a whisper.

“She?”

“Elune.”

Zami froze, staring back at the pleading look in her eyes, and it clicked what she was talking about. He felt like he could breathe again and he sighed softly. In response, her arm warily lowered from the door.

“Well…” He began slowly, his hand squeezing the doorknob tightly, “I remember she was real pretty. Da prettiest thing I ever saw.”

“But what did she actually look like?” Mythene asked impatiently.

He thought about it for a moment. He looked down at Mythene, with her long silver hair framing her beautiful face as her white glowing eyes bored into him, determined and defiant as ever. And as he looked at her, he realized that---as true as it was---he couldn’t say it to her face.

“Uhh, well, I guess dat she...”

Suddenly his free hand gently pushed back against Mythene’s chest. She took a step back, so that she wouldn’t lose her balance, and at the same time moved out of the way of the door. Zami didn’t hesitate to open the door, and stepped outside into the hall before she could react. He held the door closed as she tried to open it, and waited until she finished trying to finish his sentence, a warm blush gracing his cheeks.

“...She looked like you.”


	116. His Own Devices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recently looked around AO3 to see other people’s goblin-centric fics, since I was curious how other people portrayed them. And there were all of four, counting the prequel about Jazax that I’m writing. I was so upset by this grievous offense to the second-best race in Azeroth, that I have officially promoted Jazax and Syrise from side characters to main characters. You’ll find that they’re even in the tags now. Rather than just supporting the main plot, they will now actually have their own little B plot. Of course, Zami is still the main character here and it’s ultimately his story, so he will still be the primary protagonist. All of this to say that, for the first time in over 100 chapters, Jazax is finally getting his first POV chapter!

Jazax woke up with a jolt of electricity to his ear. He winced, opening his eyes, and groaned. The little robot he’d been working on in the night, and apparently finished, had clamped onto his ear. It looked like a little miniature goblin, with glowing red eyes. It stared at him ominously, a permanent toothy frown plastered on its lips. Jazax swatted the little robo-goblin’s clamps from his ear, knocking it over, before he rose his arms over his head to stretch. It’d been years since he had fallen asleep at his workbench, and he was beginning to feel a bit too old for it.

Rubbing his eyes, Jazax looked around the kitchen. It was morning, from what he could tell by the sounds of birdsong and the sun shining through the windows. And directly into his eyes, of course. Squinting, he lowered his goggles and looked around again. To his surprise, Zami was sitting at the kitchen table, holding his head in his hands.

“Hey, buddy,” Jazax spoke up, causing the troll to flinch, “Rough night?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it...” Zami mumbled, leaning forward to plant his face against the table.

“Jeez, have you been up all night?” Jazax furrowed his brow.

Zami didn’t respond, and Jazax perked an eyebrow. After concluding that Zami had fallen asleep right then and there, Jazax rolled his eyes and began to wonder what he’d do all day without Zami. He was probably going to sleep all day, after all.

As if an answer from the Light, Mythene appeared in the doorway. She caught sight of Zami and stopped short, looking a bit frazzled.

“Hey, hey,” Jazax greeted her, “If it isn’t Miss Moon---”

“I’m going to the Temple of the Moon,” She said quickly, practically darting past Zami and out the door.

“Okay, then,” Jazax frowned, “Good talk.”

Jazax grumbled to himself and looked down at the robo-goblin. It just started back, that maniacal frown still etched across its face. Jazax perked an eyebrow at it and leaned over, reaching into his toolbox. He retrieved his arclight spanner, taking a hold of the robo-goblin’s mouth and turned until it was stuck in an insane grin.

“There ya go, little buddy,” Jazax said as he grinned back.

A few moments later, he heard footsteps in the hallway. Then Mythene’s father appeared in the archway. 

“Hey, look who it is!” Jazax greeted him, supposing he was growing a bit desperate for someone to talk to.

Mythene’s father just glanced at Jazax in disinterest then made his way towards the cooking pot. Jazax leaned on his workstation table, watching the night elf cut various vegetables and put them into the pot.

“I'll be honest, I don’t remember your name,” Jazax admitted as he watched him cook, “I just remember you’re Mythene’s dad. So, y’know, maybe you could---”

“Caserion,” The night elf grunted, not looking up from the odd-looking root he was chopping.

“Ah, Caserion, right, right,” Jazax nodded, eager to keep the conversation going, “That’s an interesting name. My name is Jazax, by the way. Don’t think I introduced myself. I’m Jazax Boombottle. I live in Booty Bay. You ever been to Booty Bay, old man?”

“No,” Caserion said as he gave Jazax a cold glance.

“Oh, man, really? You should definitely go before you kick the bucket. If, uh, that’s any time soon. I dunno, it’s hard to keep track of how long you elves live. Anyway, yeah, Booty Bay is great. You got the three best things you can get outta a vacation. Sea, sun, and suckers.”

Caserion said nothing, only perking an eyebrow, so Jazax elaborated.

“People are so easy to scam money out of when they’re on vacation,” Jazax shrugged, “I once convinced this lady she was buyin’ partial ownership of the Kingdom of Stormwind. Can you believe that? She paid good gold for it, too. What a sucker, huh?”

“...Are you going to keep talking?” Caserion asked dryly.

“Uhh… yes?”

Caserion frowned and set down his kitchen knife. Then he put out the cooking fire, put on a jacket, and walked out the front door. Jazax blinked a moment before furrowing his brow.

“Guess I know where Mythene gets it,” He snorted, looking down to the robo-goblin, “Well, I guess it’s just you and me now, little buddy.”

The robo-goblin bonked its mouth with its clamp, reverting the grin back to a frown. Then it pressed the self-destruct button on its own back, causing it to explode in a little puff of smoke. Jazax frowned, catching the robo-goblin’s head as it flew away.

“Well, jeez, fine!” He sniffed indignantly, “Guess I’ll have to entertain myself today.”

Jazax looked down at the little frowning robo-goblin head in his hand, thinking about what he could do by himself. After a moment, he got an idea.

“I got it! I’ll go to the bank!” He said as he threw the robo-goblin’s head onto the workstation.

Jazax packed up his tools and workbench then headed out into the city. He was, admittedly, a little bit anxious about going into Darnassus without a disguise. But he knew they wouldn’t let him fifty feet near his bank account if he didn’t look like himself. Fortunately, nobody really seemed to care much about his presence. Or maybe they just didn’t notice when he walked by. The perks of being fun-sized, he supposed.

“Hey, lady!” Jazax jumped up, leaning against the bank teller’s window, sporting his signature suave grin, “Remember me?”

The bank teller stared back flatly, her expression completely blank.

“Yeah, so, I wanted to check and see if anything’s changed from the other day. Y’know, money-wise.”

“No,” The banker said in monotone.

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Did you check?”

The banker sighed, rolling her eyes, and snatched up the account transcript. Her white eyes skimmed over it before one of her eyebrows rose.

“Huh… Actually, it appears that all of the money was re-deposited.”

“Huh?” Jazax cocked his head to the side, “You mean my money’s back?”

“So it seems,” The banker nodded, “Although…”

“Although?”

“This makes no sense,” The banker mumbled, peering at the transcript.

“What? What doesn’t?” Jazax asked, reaching for the transcript to take a look for himself.

The banker handed it over, and Jazax quickly skimmed the last few transactions in the log. It appeared that the money was indeed back, all 657 gold, 23 silver, and 63 copper.

“Perhaps it was a clerical error after all,” The banker admitted sheepishly, “We’re sorry for the inconvenience, sir---”

“It ain’t no error,” Jazax said as he furrowed his brow, eyeing the transaction log suspiciously.

He knew it was no error and no coincidence. It couldn’t be. The deposit had come from Moonglade.


	117. Familiar Faces, Part 1

Syrise sighed and flopped back against the bench, staring up in boredom. She knew that, on the other side of the courtyard, the night elves were staring at her suspiciously. Ever since she’d arrived, the whispers never stopped. Her arrival in itself had been the talk of the town. A sin’dorei in Moonglade? One calling herself a druid? It was practically heresy in their eyes. Madness! Syrise scoffed, taking off her leather gloves and setting them onto her stomach.

At least the tauren had treated her kindly since her arrival, although the trolls were rather wary of her. Understandable, she thought, considering the ancient bad blood between their peoples. Well, not technically their peoples. More between her people and the forest trolls. But trolls were trolls, she supposed.

She stared up at the dusky purple sky, watching the leaves of the trees sway as wisps danced to and fro. It somewhat, vaguely, reminded her of being back home. The tall trees of Quel’Thalas were a much more vibrant shade of green, and the sky was a much deeper blue, but it was similar. Somewhat. If you squinted.

“Excuse me,” A deep male voice rumbled in Orcish, as a great shadow came to block her view.

Syrise glanced up, towards a tauren with little wooden trinkets braided into his thick black hair, which was also streaked with a little bit of grey. He appeared to be one of the druids, though she didn’t recognize him as anyone she had met thus far.

“Yes?” Syrise perked an eyebrow, “Did you need something?”

“Forgive me if I am disturbing you,” The tauren began, “But I have heard much of you since you got here, though I do not yet know you. I had hoped to remedy this.”

“Ah, okay,” Syrise nodded, sitting up and extending an ungloved hand, “Syrise Duskstrider. Former Farstrider of Quel’Thalas, former employee of the Steamwheedle Cartle, and current druidic disciple of Mythene Moonshadow.”

“Mythene Moonshadow?” The tauren raised a thick black eyebrow, “She takes yet another student? And a blood elf, no less? How interesting…”

“You know Mythene? Are you two friends or something?” Syrise asked, to which the tauren gave a hearty laugh.

“To call us friends would greatly overstate our relationship,” He said with a chuckle, “Perhaps coworkers would be a more appropriate assessment.”

The tauren then took Syrise’s hand with his, shaking it firmly.

“I am Khail Mountainwalker,” The tauren introduced himself, “Might I have a seat with you? I’m not quite as young as I used to be.”

“Hm? Oh, sure, sure,” Syrise said quickly, scooting over to one side of the bench.

The tauren sat down beside her, rubbing at his knees.

“So, if you do not mind me asking, how did Mythene Moonshadow come to take you as her student?” He asked curiously, “As far as I am aware, she is not very becoming towards races aside from her own.”

“Oh, really? Well, I originally met her and Z on a ship heading to Booty Bay,” Syrise recalled, tapping her chin, “She was actually pretty nice. She didn’t seem as stuck up as most kaldorei.”

Syrise paused, glancing over her shoulder towards the group of night elves who were watching her suspiciously, before realizing they probably wouldn’t have understood her words in the first place. There’s no way it was common for kaldorei to learn Orcish, after all. She then turned back to face Khail.

“Hmm, I have the feeling I know who this ‘Z’ person you speak of is,” Khail said with a knowing glint in his eye, “You speak of the troll called Zami, don’t you?”

“Huh?” Syrise blinked in surprise, widening her green eyes, “Don’t tell me you know Z too!”

Khail chuckled, nodding his large head.

“Yes, we’ve certainly met,” He smiled, “It was I who first brought him into the Cenarion Circle.”

“Small world,” Syrise grinned, “If you know Jazzy too, I’m gonna lose it.”

“Err, who?” Khail perked an eyebrow.

“Jazax Boombottle? The goblin?”

“Hmm, I know no one by the name Jazax, I’m afraid,” Khail said as he shook his head.

“Ah, yeah that would be a little bit too much of a coincidence,” Syrise shrugged, still grinning.

“Though, come to think of it, I do know a goblin by the name Boombottle.”

Syrise’s smile immediately fell upon hearing this.

“You what?” She asked, her voice low, “What are you talking about?”

“There is indeed a goblin by the name of Auctioneer Boombottle in Winterspring, to the east,” Khail elaborated, “She and a group of other goblins from Everlook make regular seasonal trips here through Timbermaw Hold.”

Syrise quickly shoved her hands back into her black leather gloves and leapt to her feet. Khail looked up at her in surprise.

“Is something wrong?” He asked as a few of the night elves looked warily in Syrise’s direction.

“I have to go to Winterspring,” Syrise said firmly, fists clenching at her sides, “I need to pay a visit to a certain goblin. Do you know me the way? Can you show me?”

“Hm, yes, I can,” Khail nodded, “But the furbolg do not take kindly to strangers entering their home uninvited. They will surely be hostile towards you.”

“Not if they can’t see me,” Syrise nodded briskly, “Now, can you show me the way to this Timbermaw Hold?”

Khail led Syrise towards the edges of the lake outside of Nighthaven. She was pretty sure she had heard the night elves call it Lake Elune or something. Of course that’s what it was called. Boy, were those kaldorei obsessed with their little moon goddess. Syrise squinted towards the other side of the lake, where she could see the furbolg guarding near the entrance of a tunnel on the other side of the lake.

“Follow the tunnel south until you come to a fork in the main path,” Khail explained, “To reach Winterspring, you must take the path on the left.”

“Keep straight until a fork then take the path on the left, got it,” Syrise nodded, eyeing the furbolg in the distance.

“How do you plan to get past them?” Khail asked curiously.

“Simple,” Syrise said with a grin, “Like this.”

And then she took a deep breath and disappeared right before his eyes.


	118. Familiar Faces, Part 2

Syrise didn’t much care for the cold, so she was pleased when she finally stepped foot in Everlook. Something about the hustle and bustle of the trade city brought a sense of warmth and life that helped ease the chill in her bones. Rubbing her arms, she began to stroll down the main road, glancing left and right. She was looking for one particular sign. Most of them were written in either Common or Goblin, sometimes both. Syrise didn’t know much of the former, but she’d fortunately picked up some of the latter from Jazax. Enough to know which sign was the Auction House, at least.

Syrise stepped inside of the Auction House with her fists and jaw both clenched. She scanned the sea of tiny goblins, not caring that she stood out like a sore thumb, until her green eyes locked onto one unmistakable goblin. Skin the color of toxic waste, eyes the color of bile, bone through her snub nose, and a mop of bright blue hair. There was no mistake.

“Next!” The auctioneer shouted, and Syrise pushed her way to the front of the group.

The goblin looked up at the blood elf standing in front of her and her eyes doubled in size.

“Hey!” She beamed, “If it isn’t my old pal, Sy---”

Syrise slammed a dagger down into the auction table next to the goblin, the blade piercing all the way through the wooden table from the force alone. The auctioneer’s smile fell as several of the other goblins, including the other auctioneers, backed away warily. The blue-haired goblin glanced around the room before flashing Syrise an uneasy smile.

“Why don’t we take this outside before you scare off the customers?” She said as she pushed past Syrise a bit, heading to the door.

Syrise narrowed her eyes and, in a swift gesture, pried the dagger free and threw it for the goblin’s head. Just as quickly, the goblin turned and caught the blade by the handle, looking rather bored.

“Outside,” The goblin repeated, before shuffling out the door.

Syrise furrowed her blonde brow but followed, stepping outside into the cold. The goblin was leaning against the wall, twirling Syrise’s daggers between her fingers.

“How you doing, Syrise?” She asked, still twirling the blade, “Been a few years. The Cartel treating you good, honey?”

Syrise said nothing, as too many words were in her head that she wanted to say all at once. So she just said nothing.

“How’s Jazzy boy doing?” She asked casually, smiling as Syrise flinched, “He even still alive?”

Syrise clenched her fists by her sides, shutting her eyes.

“Give it back,” She said firmly.

“The blade?” The goblin turned it, catching it by the blade before holding it out to Syrise, “Here.”

“The money,” Syrise hissed, taking the dagger, “Give it to me.”

“What money?” The goblin shrugged innocently.

“Don’t play games with me, Tezz,” Syrise scowled down at the goblin, “His money. The money you stole.”

“Hm? You’re gonna have to be a little more specific,” Tezz grinned, “I stole a lot of money from a lot of idiots. Which idiot are you talking about?”

“Your husband,” Syrise growled, gripping tightly onto the dagger.

“Which one?” Tezz raised an eyebrow.

Syrise just glared down wordlessly for a moment before stabbing the dagger down at the goblin. In a flash, Tezz drew her own dagger and blocked Syrise’s strike with her own blade.

“Easy now, honey,” Tezz smiled, pushing back against Syrise’s blade, “Don’t make me have to kill you.”

Syrise scoffed and dropped her own blade, causing Tezz to swing wide due to the force she had been exerting to hold her back. Syrise rolled back, drawing her bow, and nocked an arrow before Tezz even got back to facing her.

“I’d like to see you try, you witch,” She sneered, pulling back the bowstring.

“Hey now, why are we calling names, honey?” Tezz furrowed her brow, raising her hands defensively.

“The money,” Syrise narrowed her green eyes, “Or I’ll shoot you right here.”

“Is that how you treat an old friend?” Tezz asked, her voice feigning an innocent tone.

Syrise scoffed and went to release the arrow.

“W-Wait wait!” Tezz flinched, holding up her hands a little higher, “I, uh, think it’s coming back to me now! You mean Jazax’s money, right?!”

Syrise nodded briskly, keeping her bowstring taut by only two fingers.

“That was years ago, honey!” Tezz frowned, “I spend that already!”

Syrise furrowed her brow, removing one finger, and Tezz flinched again.

“Okay, okay, look,” Tezz sighed, “I, er, might’ve maybe taken some more money. Recently.”

At this, Syrise perked a long blonde eyebrow. That, she hadn’t expected.

“I’ll return it, I swear,” Tezz said as she waved her hands.

“How did you get more money from him?” Syrise asked suspiciously.

“That idiot never changed the pin on his primary bank account, the one he shared with me after we got married,” Tezz snorted, “What an idiot.”

“Watch it,” Syrise warned her, to which the goblin perked a blue eyebrow.

“Awful defensive of our dear Jazzy boy, aren’tcha, Syrise?” Tezz grinned, “You two finally got somethin’ goin’ on or what?”

“What are you talking about?” Syrise scowled, slackening her grip on her bow slightly.

“C’mon, honey,” Tezz rolled her eyes, “Even when we were married, he never looked at me like he looked at you.”

“Jazzy would’ve never betrayed you,” Syrise frowned, “He really loved you, Tezz.”

“Yeah, well the feeling weren’t mutual,” Tezz shrugged, “I always found him pretty annoying, to be honest.”

“Then why in the name of the Sunwell would you---”

“Marry him? Well, once he got in good with Revilgaz, he was making bank!”

Syrise furrowed her brow as Tezz shot her a greedy grin.

“See, he was making more money than he knew what to do with, and you know he’d only buy me things once in a while. What kinda man doesn’t pamper his wife? Honestly, all that money was just going to waste on him anyway.”

“He needed that money to buy his freedom back from the Cartel, and you stole that from him,” Syrise hissed, “If you hadn’t stolen everything he’d had, he finally would’ve been able to---”

“So Jazzy boy really loved me, huh?” Tezz laughed, putting her hands on her hips, “Then I guess that makes you, what, just a sorry rebound?”

Syrise inhaled deeply, reminding herself to stay focused and not let Tezz’s words get to her. As annoying as they were.

“The money,” She repeated, “I won’t ask again.”

“Ugh, you just won’t let it go, huh?” Tezz rolled her eyes, “Y’know what? Fine, here.”

Tezz reached into her pocket and pulled out a large sack. She jingled it, revealing it was full of coins.

“Just take it,” She sighed, tossing the bag at Syrise’s feet, “I wouldn’t have even taken it if I knew Jazzy boy was going to sic his guard dog on me.”

Syrise scowled again but before she could respond, Tezz pulled something else out of her pocket. Syrise recognized it but before she could react, the goblin dropped the smoke bomb onto the ground, disappearing into the black cloud.

Syrise coughed, waving the smoke away from her face. But by the time the air cleared, the goblin was gone. All that remained was the bag of money at her feet, and a little card. Syrise perked an eyebrow, stooping to pick it up. Upon one side was a set of numbers, and upon the other was a kiss in the most garish shade of lipstick imaginable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tally of characters nobody will ever like in this fic:
> 
> \- Jumi  
\- Cassene  
\- Daras  
\- Caserion, possibly  
\- Tezz


	119. Jealousy

Zami awoke to the feeling of something jabbing painfully into his arm. Groggily, he sat up, his cheek peeling away from the surface of the table, and looked towards the direction of his discomfort. To his surprise, Caserion, of all people, was standing there and jabbing at his arm with his purple finger.

“Wake up, you disgusting thing,” Caserion sneered, drawing a flat look from Zami.

“I’m awake,” Zami said in Darnassian, pausing to yawn, “What do you need?”

“The table,” Caserion growled, nodding towards the table, “We have a guest coming for dinner to discuss important business.”

Zami perked an eyebrow but nodded tiredly, squeezing himself out of the tiny chair and getting to his feet.

“Go do something in the city,” Caserion sniffed, waving a hand towards the door, “You smell terrible and I want to clear the stink out before our guest arrives, lest he have no appetite.”

Zami just rolled his eye upon hearing this. Being a troll, it wasn’t as though this was the first time hearing such comments. Even though, in his opinion, he was actually quite... unscented for a troll. Probably due to his willingness to actually bathe once and a while. It would’ve made stealthing rather useless if people could smell him before they saw him, after all.

“Hurry up now,” Caserion snapped as he shoved Zami towards the door, “I have much cooking to do, and not nearly enough time as it is.”

“Cooking?” Zami perked an eyebrow, looking back over his shoulder, “You know, I’m actually a really good cook. Everyone says so. If you need help---”

“No thank you,” Caserion scoffed, “I’m afraid an expert at barbecuing humanoids has no role in this kitchen.”

At this, Zami finally scowled. He leaned his forearm against the door and pushed himself away from it, and into Caserion. Caserion blinked in surprise as Zami easily overpowered him, as though he was nothing more than a child, and he fell back against the ground.

Before either of them could say anything, there came a sudden knock from the front door. Caserion’s face paled and Zami turned to perk an eyebrow over his shoulder.

“Hello? Mister Moonshadow?” A male voice called in Darnassian from outside, “I’ve arrived as you requested earlier this morning.”

Caserion scrambled to his feet and approached the door, neatening his clothes, before grabbing the doorknob. Then he paused, glaring over at Zami.

“Go hide yourself somewhere, at the least,” He muttered, audible enough for Zami to hear but not the man outside.

Zami furrowed his brow and contemplated refusing his request out of spite for a moment, but ultimately decided it wasn’t worth the trouble. Grumbling to himself, he moved out of the kitchen and into the hallway. As he leaned back against the wall, he heard Caserion open the front door.

“Ah, there you are. Right on time, as always,” Caserion greeted his guest, “I confess I am a little bit late at starting the cooking. Maybe we should go out to eat elsewhere?”

“Oh, I don’t mind waiting, sir,” The other man responded, rather meekly Zami noted, “It rather reminds me of old times.”

“Then perhaps you could help me and we could prepare much quicker,” Caserion suggested.

Zami glanced aside, feeling slighted at how easily he asked this other guy for help with the cooking when he was rejected outright for offering to help.

“Oh, um, I’m afraid I’m not very handy in the kitchen,” The man said with a nervous laugh, “I tend to burn most things.”

“Mythene isn’t much better,” Caserion quipped, earning another laugh from the man.

“Speaking of which, is she here?” The man asked, “I would greatly enjoy getting to see her again. We didn’t exactly leave off on the best foot when we spoke the other day.”

“Oh?” Caserion asked, and Zami could hear the chopping of vegetables, “What happened, if I might pry?”

“She got rather angry at Cassene for something. I’m not exactly sure what,” The man explained, “Something about either a student of hers or a troll she has taken as a pet. It was rather unclear.”

“Ah, you’ve heard about the troll already?” Caserion tsked, “Sordid business, that. Would you believe that the troll is, in fact, her student?”

“No,” The man gasped in surprise, “Really?”

“Oh, yes,” Caserion sighed, “And she’s quite serious about trying to train the monster, it seems.”

“How bizarre,” The man commented, “I thought Mythene hated trolls? Especially after…”

At this, Zami’s ears pricked up curiously. 

“Indeed,” Caserion agreed, “I am equally as baffled as you are. But then, she has always been such a rebel.”

“Still…” The man mumbled, “To so blatantly ignore their role…”

“Oh, believe me, dear boy. I know,” Caserion huffed, “It infuriates me. She acts as though everything is well and fine with her befriending the creature. As if they didn’t slaughter her mother.”

At this, Zami’s eye went wide in surprise. Mythene had never mentioned anything about her mother, come to think. There had been comments, here and there, about her father. But she’d always been rather tight-lipped about her mother. Suspiciously so. Zami had suspected the mother’s death, but the cause was completely unknown to him. Well, until now.

Now it was rather clear why Mythene’s whole family seemed to particularly hate him, too. Even if he had nothing to do with the death of Mythene’s mother, he was most certainly a reminder. Realizing this, Zami frowned.

“...Anyway, you didn’t answer my initial question, sir,” The man pointed out after a moment of uncomfortable silence, “Is Mythene here? Can I see her?”

“Hm, I believe she should be in her chambers,” Caserion said, rather loudly, “Perhaps go and call for her? You remember where her room is, Daras?”

“Yes, sir,” The man, the infamous Daras apparently, said as Zami heard footsteps begin to approach the hall.

Zami quickly leaned himself back against the wall and stealthed, watching as a night elven man appeared from the kitchen. He had dusky blue skin, dark blue hair in a tight braid down his back, and his face was clean shaven. Zami perked an eyebrow, noting that the man appeared to be nothing special. No wonder he wasn’t successful in his attempts to court Mythene, he mused to himself.

“Mythene?” Daras called, knocking on Mythene’s chamber door, “Are you in there? It’s me, Daras Nightwing.”

Only silence greeted him, so he awkwardly continued.

“Um, your father came to me this morning. He said that we have something important to discuss,” Daras called, “Regarding our future together.”

At this, Zami’s eyebrow rose. What future? As far as he’d been told, Mythene wanted less than nothing to do with this guy. Even so, that didn’t stop the slight pangs of jealousy that began bubbling in his stomach.

Mythene still didn’t respond, and Zami was beginning to suspect she wasn’t even in there. It seemed Caserion had the same conclusion, as he stuck his head into the hallway from the kitchen.

“Perhaps she stepped out for a moment,” He suggested, “I’m sure she’ll be returning soon. It’s getting dark.”

“Ah, alright,” Daras nodded, walking past Zami and returning to the kitchen, “Is the soup almost ready?”

“Yes, nearly. We can eat as we wait for Mythene to return. After all, she should be a part of this discussion as well. It pertains to the both of you.”

Zami furrowed his brow suspiciously. He had a bad feeling about this in his stomach. And it wasn’t just from jealousy.


	120. The Reason

Mythene stared down at herself in the reflecting pools at the base of Haidene’s statue. She had spent hours at the Temple of the Moon, occupying herself with meditation and prayer all the day long. Many of the other priests and pilgrims had already retired and left for the day, as the sun was setting. It cast a comfortable last warm glow through the Temple’s main archway, illuminating on the surface of the water in pinks and purples. It brought back such bittersweet nostalgia that Mythene felt her eyes begin to water.

“Mythene?” A familiar voice interrupted her thoughts, “You haven’t left from this spot since dawn broke, and now the sun is setting. Are you alright, my friend?”

“Oh, Desana,” Mythene said as she looked up to her friend, meeting her golden eyes, “Such heaviness weighs on my heart of late.”

“Hm? What’s wrong?” Desana asked with a frown, sitting down on the stone next to her, “Tell me of your troubles.”

Mythene sighed wearily, bringing her hands up to rub her face.

“I feel so much at conflict with myself. So out of balance,” She said as she lowered her hands again, “I know one thing, but then I feel its opposite replace it. Hatred turns to affection, devotion turns to rebellion, pride turns to regret. The ones I held closest feel the furthest, and the ones I push away draw closest of all. I feel like I’m going mad here, Desana.”

Desana’s gold eyes flickered over Mythene for a moment before her expression turned thoughtful.

“Is this about the troll?” She asked softly, making Mythene’s eyebrows shoot up.

“No,” She insisted, rather quickly, “Why would it involve him?”

Desana perked an eyebrow skeptically, and Mythene felt her cheeks begin to burn. Hastily, she looked away.

“Mythene,” Desana chuckled, reaching over and grabbing her chin, “Look at yourself.”

Mythene let Desana tilt her head down, so that she looked at her own reflection. Indeed, her cheeks were greatly flushed in a shade of deep purple. They turned even more so upon seeing this.

“I don’t really understand much about your association with that troll,” Desana said as she retracted her hand, “But it is clear it deeply affects you.”

“He is my student,” Mythene said coldly, “Nothing more.”

“Yes well, Malfurion Stormrage is Cenarius’ student,” Desana quipped, “But I still think High Priestess Whisperwind would get jealous if they had blushed so much as you when discussing each other.”

Mythene furrowed her brow at the uncomfortable idea, shaking it away from her thoughts lest she be scarred for life. 

“Don’t speak of such strange things,” Mythene sighed, laying down on her back against the cool stone steps, “It disturbs me to imagine.”

Desana was quiet for a moment, simply laying down beside her friend. They stared up together at the ceiling of the Temple, where various wisps flitted about amidst the ever-present pollen of Teldrassil.

“Hey, Mythene? Can I ask you something?” Desana asked, her golden eyes tracking a wisp as it flew about.

Mythene frowned, noting her tone was rather serious, a rarity for Desana.

“Hm? Yes?” Mythene asked, glancing over at her friend, “What is it?”

“This troll… this Zami. Why did you take him as your student?”

Mythene glanced aside, watching the last beams of sunlight as the sun sunk beyond the trees.

“Because I like a challenge,” She mumbled, hoping Desana wouldn’t pry further.

“Don’t give me that,” Desana scolded, elbowing Mythene’s side, “I know you better than that. You would never associate yourself with trolls so glibly. Not after Sister Mystene was killed by them.”

Mythene shut her eyes upon hearing her mother’s name. She had tried to push the memories of her away. Whenever she allowed herself to think of her mother, it felt like heresy to her memory. Especially if she was in Zami’s company.

“So what is the real reason, Mythene?” Desana continued, “No more excuses.”

Mythene sighed quietly, opening her eyes and looking up to the massive statue of Haidene. It looked even larger from the floor.

“...I wish I could’ve met her,” Mythene mumbled.

“Hm? Who?”

“Haidene,” Mythene said with a slight nod towards the statue, “My great-grandmother.”

“She lived thousands of years ago,” Desana pointed out, “Before the War of the Ancients. Before the Kaldorei Empire, even.”

“I wonder if she ever had such troubles as I,” Mythene mused aloud, “Did she love? Did she cry? What did she dream of?”

“I’m sure she must’ve loved,” Desana nodded, “How would your grandmother be born elsewise?”

“Taking a mate through obligation is not unheard of, Desana. Especially in such ancient days,” Mythene reminded her.

“I suppose we should be grateful it is much less common today,” Desana said before sitting up, “By the way, when are you and Daras going to be officially mated? I want to be sisters already.”

“Desana…” Mythene sighed, looking away, “I don’t… I really… honestly…”

Suddenly, Mythene was reminded of her conversation with her father the day prior, and she sat up quickly.

“Oh, that’s right...” She groaned, covering her face with her hand, “Father was going to invite Daras over today…”

“Ah? What for?” Desana perked an eyebrow.

“I don’t know,” Mythene admitted sheepishly, “But I suppose I must go find out.”

“Wait,” Desana called as Mythene stood up, “You still haven’t told me the reason.”

“What reason?”

“The reason you took the troll as your student.”

Mythene frowned, glancing towards the door and wondering if she could make it out before Desana caught her. Deciding that she could not, she reluctantly turned back to face her friend.

“You won’t believe me,” She said first, hoping to dissuade her.

“Try me,” Desana retorted, crossing her arms.

“You’ll be disappointed.”

“Let me decide that.”

“It really isn’t all that interestin---”

“Mythene,” Desana huffed, “Just tell me already, before you’re late to meet Daras.”

Mythene rolled her eyes. As if that was something she wanted to prevent. She glanced back at Desana, who was staring her down impatiently. Sighing, Mythene finally accepted her defeat and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I, um…” She began, clearing her throat awkwardly, “I had a dream. Of him.”

“A dream?” Desana perked an eyebrow, “Like a prophecy or---”

“No,” Mythene furrowed her brow, lowering her hand, “Just… a dream. The night before we first crossed paths.”

“What happened in the dream?”

“I was drowning,” Mythene recalled grimly, “I couldn’t breathe, and I couldn’t move. I knew I was going to die and there was nothing I could do. I felt so helpless…”

Mythene shut her eyes, the memory playing vividly in her mind.

“But then I… noticed someone. They were looking at me above the surface of the water. Someone with these… eyes. One of gold, and one of green. I couldn’t see anything else about their face, but I remember those eyes so vividly…”

Mythene furrowed her brow, remembering the feeling of her lungs burning from the lack of air. It had happened for real, she reminded herself, albeit differently. Back in Darkshore, in those cages. Her cheeks began to flush when she recalled something else about back then, and her hand instinctively curled against her pant leg.

“Was that all?” Desana asked, wondering if Mythene was finished, but she shook her head.

“I couldn’t see their face, but I did see their hand. It was most certainly a troll’s hand. They reached into the water to… save me. I woke up as soon as they touched the water, though. But then when I saw him in person later that day, our eyes met and I recognized him at once. It’s rather hard to explain, really...”

Mythene opened her eyes, feeling a little exposed from revealing something she’d kept so close to the vest for so long. She glanced over at Desana and immediately blushed, seeing the knowing way Desana was smiling at her.

“So, you’ll need to convince me if I’m wrong,” Desana began, “But am I correct in saying that he is your… dream man?”

Mythene stared at her friend flatly, not sure whether to facepalm or push her into the reflecting pools. But instead, to her own surprise, she laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this chapter, I might be a bit slower to update for a few days. My sister-in-law is in the hospital and my brother works during the week, so I have to babysit their six kids. Not much time for writing!


	121. Jazax's Day Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! My sister-in-law was in the hospital and I had to babysit her six kids for the last three days. But now she’s home and I’m finally free!
> 
> Anyway, Happy Thanksgiving to those of you who celebrate! :)

Jazax tapped his fingers together under his chin, glaring at his cup of moonberry juice like it had insulted his mother. Y’know, if he had a mother.

“So, now you’re all caught up, yeah?” He asked, glancing at the night elf across from him, “Whaddya you think I should do today?”

The woman stared back blankly for a moment, apathetically rubbing her red apple against the front of her tunic. Then she paused to examine it, making sure it was just the right amount of shiny, before taking a bite. She chewed rather loudly on the apple and Jazax perked an eyebrow, waiting impatiently for her to finish.

When she finally did, she lowered the apple away from her mouth, which was a flat line.

“...Why did you follow me from the bank, sir?” The teller sighed, before taking another bite of her apple, “Don’t you have someone else to talk to about this with?”

Jazax looked up thoughtfully. Zami was passed out on a table, and Syrise was all the way in Moonglade. Even Revilgaz was on a different continent.

“Nope,” He concluded, taking a sip of his cup, “Nobody.”

“Hm,” The night elf grunted, before taking another bite of her apple, “...Sounds rather lonely.”

“Ah, nah, well, y’know,” Jazax scoffed, waving his hand dismissively, “I always got somethin’ or other goin’ on, y’know?”

“Hm,” The night elf grunted again.

Her lack of true comment made Jazax feel rather insecure. Usually, with Syrise or Zami, he’d say something like that and they’d respond with something snarky or sarcastic. That’d always been the case. It was always easier to just make a joke and move ahead, not stopping to think about one thing for too long.

But that was a bit hard to do when he was the only one contributing to the conversation.

“Uhh, yeah…” Jazax cleared his throat awkwardly, taking another sip of his drink.

The banker just stared at him blankly, taking another bite of her apple. Crunch crunch crunch… were those the only noises she could make or something?

“It, uh…” Jazax tapped his fingers on the table, “It… can be, I guess. Sometimes.”

The night elf perked a green eyebrow at him but said nothing, prompting him to speak further. Anything to fill the silence.

“But that’s why I’m never really alone, y’know?” He said with a shrug, “I’m usually with Syrise. But she’s in Moonglade now, and I’m not, and Zami’s busy with his druid stuff.”

The night elf wordlessly took another bite of her apple, and Jazax continued on, the words each coming out quicker than the last.

“And I really don’t wanna hang out with Mythene. She’s kinda bossy and I already had a bossy wife, y’know what I’m sayin’? Been there, done that. I don’t need another lady harpin’ at me about how I don’t do this or that however she wants it, y’know?”

Crunch crunch crunch…

“I think that’s why I like bein’ around Syrise so much. She don’t really complain about me doin’ stuff my way. Doesn’t tell me to do it her way all the time. Actually, she and I kinda do stuff the same way anyway, y’know? I mean, my way’s always a little more explosive, and her way’s always all cloak and dagger. But it’s the same under that, y’know?”

The bank teller cocked her head to the side, setting down her husk of an apple core.

“You sound quite fond of this woman,” The banker pointed out.

“Who, Syrise? Oh, yeah. Yeah, she’s great,” Jazax nodded, unable to help the smile that began to grow on his lips, “And that’s sayin’ something, considerin’ she’s an elf an all…. Err, no offense, lady!”

“None taken,” The banker said flatly, “And you may call me An’ra.”

Jazax leaned back in his seat, staring down at his cup of moonberry juice.

“An’ra, huh?” Jazax put his hand on his chin, “Ain’t that what Mythene calls her dad?”

The banker stared at him flatly for a moment before clearing her throat and continuing on.

“You sound like you miss her,” She quipped, standing up.

“Huh? Miss her?” Jazax blinked, pondering it, “Well, I mean, yeah, I guess?”

“Perhaps you should go and visit her,” The banker shrugged, “I’m sure one of the druids in the Cenarion Enclave could simply teleport you there and back.”

“Eh?” Jazax blinked, sitting up in his seat, “Wait, you guys can do that?”

“Well, not I,” An’ra said as she put her apple core into a nearby trash can, “I am merely a banker. You would have to ask a druid.”

Jazax grinned as he got up from the table, looking up at the banker.

“Hey, thanks for your help, lady!” He said with a nod to her, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I got me a portal to catch!”

An’ra perked a green eyebrow as she watched the goblin run off, unable to shake the feeling that she hadn’t seen the last of that little pest quite yet.

Jazax was in a good mood when he first approached the Cenarion Enclave. But his good mood only dimmed more and more with each druid he spoke to. Refusal after refusal, even when he offered monetary compensation for the trouble. It would take them all of two seconds, but apparently night elves were immune to the allure of easy money.

Idiots, Jazax thought to himself.

After the sun had set, he finally decided to put an end to his efforts. Most of the druids had already left or gone home, and the last few stragglers weren’t interested in even hearing him out. Who knew night elves could be so stubborn?

With a sigh of lament, Jazax accepted that he wouldn’t be able to see Syrise as he’d hoped. It was even worse when he realized just how much he’d been looking forward to it. Frowning, he made his way back to Mythene’s house with his head hung. Grumbling under his breath, he opened the front door.

He looked up as he heard the shattering of glass, and his eyes went wide as he looked at the scene in front of him. Caserion had his arms wrapped around the stomach of a panther, which was snapping its jaws in the direction of another night elf guy, who was wearing a bowl of soup on his head. The table was overturned, the window was broken, and Zami was breathing heavily as he leaned back against the wall...

...With an arrow through his heart.


	122. Clarity

When Mythene stepped through the front door, she had a plan. Her plan was immediately interrupted by the sight of her father and Daras sitting at the kitchen table. Daras had his classic stupid smile as soon as he saw her, and she had to resist the urge to roll her eyes.

“Mythene, how nice of you to finally join us,” Caserion sniffed, pausing to eat a spoonful of soup, “Have a seat.”

“I’m not really hungry,” Mythene shrugged, going to pass to the archway.

But Caserion reached out and grabbed her arm, brow furrowed.

“Have a seat,” He repeated, and it became clear that it was an order, not an offer.

Mythene restrained a sigh and approached the table, taking a seat across from the other two.

“Now then,” Caserion nodded, “Let’s begin discussing the terms of this courtship. I hope you don’t expect me to give away my daughter so freely, Daras.”

“Of course not, sir,” Daras nodded back, as Mythene’s face went pale.

“Wait, courtship?” She blinked incredulously, “What are you talking ab----”

“Don’t be nervous now, Mythene,” Caserion perked an eyebrow at her, “You already agreed to this.”

“When?”

“Last night. Don’t you remember? Or had you perhaps drunk a little too much ginger wine at the festival?”

“I only had one glass, an’da,” Mythene frowned, crossing her arms.

She glanced aside, realizing that she must’ve agreed to this whole courtship situation when she hadn’t been paying attention.

“Yes, well, that doesn’t change that fact you---”

“An’da,” Mythene cut him off, standing up slowly, “Thank you for going through all this trouble, but I’ve changed my mind.”

“You what?” Caserion perked an eyebrow.

“I do not wish to be mated with Daras,” She said firmly, as she pushed in her chair.

“But, Mythene---”

“Please respect my wishes, an’da,” Mythene frowned at him.

Caserion sighed, sitting back in his seat. Daras furrowed his brow, quickly looking between the both of them in dismay.

“Very well,” He grumbled, crossing his arms, “But I’m disappointed to see how fickle you’ve become, Mythene.”

“Yes, an’da,” Mythene nodded and turned to leave once more.

Again, she was stopped in her path when her arm was grabbed.

“An’da, please…” Mythene sighed, turning back, “I don’t--hm?”

Mythene stopped mid-sentence, blinking in surprise. It was Daras who had grabbed her, not Caserion, as he was still busy sulking with his arms crossed. But Daras had risen to his feet and was leaning after her.

“Mythene, can’t we discuss this?” Daras asked desperately.

“There is nothing to discuss,” Mythene said as she tried to remove his grip from her arm.

“Please, let’s just talk about this,” Daras pleaded, his grip only tightening.

“Daras, let go,” Mythene furrowed her brow.

“Don’t go. Please. Not until you hear me.”

“Please let go, my arm is beginning to hurt,” Mythene said quietly as she pulled on her arm, to no avail.

“Mythene, I have loved you since we were children. All these centuries,” Daras continued on, as if he didn’t even hear her, “Please, don’t dismiss me so easily.”

“Daras, let go,” Mythene tried again, “You’re hurting me.”

But still he didn’t let go.

“What are you doing, boy?” Caserion furrowed his brow, “Didn’t you hear her? Let her go.”

Daras looked between Mythene and Caserion and lowered his head, releasing his grip on her arm. Mythene quickly pulled her arm back, examining the bruises forming on her forearm with a frown.

“It’s time for you to leave,” Caserion said sternly, to which Daras’ shoulders slumped.

“I’m sorry,” He mumbled, “I just… I’m sorry, Mythene.”

Mythene didn’t say anything, just looking at him warily. Her caution was well-placed, as Daras decided to make his desperate last stand. He reached forward, grabbing Mythene by her vest pocket, and forcefully pulled her into a kiss. When she went to push him away, he wrapped his arms around her back, keeping her locked against him.

Caserion stood up swiftly at this. Mythene, meanwhile, punched at Daras’ chest enough that he backed away for just a moment, breaking the kiss. As soon as he did, a wooden bowl of soup suddenly overturned on his head. Daras yelped as the hot soup poured down his face, and in his distraction, released Mythene.

Mythene backed away, looking over at her father, who was already preemptively picking up the second bowl. Daras wiped the soup away from his face with his sleeve and backed into the bookshelf, eyes flicking between the two of them. In response, Caserion held up the other bowl of soup.

“Get out of my house,” He growled, gaze fixated on Daras.

Daras’ expression of shameful defeat quickly turned to one of bitter defiance. In a flash, he reached behind his back, drawing his bow. As he nocked an arrow, Caserion made good on his warning and threw the second bowl of soup. Daras managed to duck out of the way just in time, causing the bowl to shatter the window beside him.

“Ugh, what’re you guys doing out there?”

All three of them flinched as Zami appeared in the archway, rubbing his eye tiredly.

“Why is it every time I fall asleep, something has to happen?” He sighed, lowering his hand.

He apparently hadn’t anticipated such a scale of conflict, however, as his eye widened upon taking in the scene. He looked at Mythene, who was in the middle of reaching for her staff, and Caserion, who had already grabbed the final bowl of soup from the table and was holding it back like a grenade. Then he looked over at Daras, who was holding his bowstring taut, and his brow sunk low.

Mythene didn’t like the way Daras’ gaze became more fixated on Zami, and was about to speak when suddenly everything changed. 

Zami’s hand quickly moved down to his dagger. In response, Daras fired the arrow. Zami jumped aside, leading the arrow to get stuck into the wall behind him. Then he drew his dagger, as Daras drew another arrow. Zami moved towards Daras, holding his dagger at the ready. But just before his blade made contact, Daras loosed his arrow.

The arrow plunged deeply and directly into Zami’s chest, causing him to stagger backwards into the bookshelf behind him. He grunted, reaching up to break the arrow off, but paused as soon as he touched it. Mythene’s eyes went wide as she realized as well.

It wasn’t just piercing his chest. It was piercing his heart.

Zami began to cough and breathe raggedly, blood beginning to pour from his chest and his mouth.

If Mythene had been angry before, then something inside of her truly snapped in that moment. She spun to face Daras, who was busy trying to nock another arrow to finish the job. Mythene clenched her jaw fiercely, knowing only one thing.

That she would never let that arrow fly.

In the blink of an eye, she leapt at Daras. He was startled by the sudden attack and dropped the arrow as a result. But that wasn’t good enough. Without pausing to think about it, Mythene leaned her head forward and ground her teeth into his arm. Daras howled in pain, dropping the bow to the floor too.

But that wasn’t good enough, either.

Her fury coming unbound, she removed her teeth from his arm and made way for his throat. But just before she made contact, she felt the wind knocked out of her as someone pulled her back by the stomach. She writhed and squirmed, eyes still locked on the flesh of Daras’ throat.

“Mythene! Stop!” Caserion shouted, holding her tighter, “You mustn’t kill him!”

Mythene still struggled against her father’s grip, digging her fingernails deeply into his arms and legs. But still he didn’t let go.

Suddenly, in the midst of the chaos, the front door suddenly opened. Everyone froze where they were, glancing up towards one very bewildered goblin.


	123. Heartbeat

“Mythene! Stop!” Caserion was shouting, “You mustn’t kill him!”

Zami managed to hear it over the ringing in his ears and his own heavy breathing. He felt like every breath he took was empty, with the air just escaping back out of the hole in his chest. He groaned and shivered slightly as he glanced down at it, gritting his teeth.

Zami had known a lot of injuries throughout his life. Little ones, big ones. But he knew he’d only felt an injury like this once. One that was both hot and cold.

Shutting his eye tightly, he was overwhelmed with a sense of helpless dismay. He knew there was nothing he could do. Last time, he’d only managed to get out of it due to making that deal with Bwonsamdi. And he knew that wouldn’t work a second time.

Suddenly he heard the sound of the front door opening. He cracked open his eye, chest still heaving, and saw Jazax in the doorway.

“What the heck is goin’ on here?!” He said as he looked around the room.

“Daras was just leaving,” Caserion grunted, squeezing tightly onto the panther in his arms as it struggled fiercely against his hold.

Daras held his hand over his bleeding arm and looked up solemnly.

“But I---”

“Daras! Leave!” Caserion barked, his grip on the panther beginning to slip.

The night elf hesitantly moved away from Zami, glancing nervously between the glaring troll and the gnashing panther as he passed. Jazax perked an eyebrow and stepped out of his way, letting Daras scurry out the front door.

Zami coughed as he felt blood begin to pool in his lungs, accidentally spitting some of it out of his mouth. He groaned again, sinking down to the floor, closing his eye once more.

A moment later, he heard a scuffling as Jazax hurried over and knelt in front of him.

“Uh, h-hey, buddy,” He began nervously, “You, uh, you okay there?”

Zami looked up at him and tried to respond but just coughed up more blood. 

“Hoo boy,” Jazax grimaced, wiping some of the blood from his face with his sleeve, “That ain’t good…”

The panther in Caserion’s arms had stilled and a moment later, shifted back into a night elf. Mythene hastily shoved her father’s arms away, running over to Zami’s side and crouching down. Her lavender hand held out hesitantly, fingers trembling, as her glowing eyes looked over his body.

“Z-Zami…” She mumbled, voice shaky.

Zami turned his head towards her slightly, his whole body beginning to feel very heavy. Wouldn’t be long now, he figured. He cleared his throat several times, trying to say something.

“D-Don’t say anything,” She said quickly, shaking her head, “J-Just let me heal you.”

Mythene took an unsteady breath and put her hands on his bloody chest. Jazax went to say something but just frowned as she closed her eyes and bowed her head. Zami watched her hands glow and then fade, but the wound still didn’t heal. Blood continued to pool below him. When Mythene opened her eyes, she furrowed her brow.

“Um, let me… let me try again,” She mumbled, bowing her head once more.

Again, her hands lit up and faded. But the wound got no better. She opened her eyes again and sighed in frustration.

“Wh-Why isn’t it working?!”

“The arrow,” Jazax mumbled, pointing to the arrow sticking out of Zami’s chest, “The wound won’t heal til that thing is removed.”

Mythene scrunched up her brow, looking increasingly distraught.

“B-But if I remove the arrow, his heart will collapse, and he wouldn’t survive long enough for me to heal that.”

Jazax clenched his jaw uncomfortably, giving a tacit nod of agreement. In the background, Caserion furrowed his brow, watching the scene with a hand over his mouth from where he leaned against the kitchen table.

“Yeah,” Jazax finally responded, “And he’ll die if we leave the arrow in, too.”

Caserion tapped his fingers against his white beard, and Zami noticed a thoughtful glint in his eye. Despite the fact that his vision was starting to blur.

“B-But there must be something I can do…” Mythene muttered, her expression echoing the helplessness that Zami felt.

Jazax furrowed his brow, looking down in thought for a moment.

“Well… maybe…” He mumbled, putting a hand on his chin, “I mean, that MIGHT work, but…?”

“What?” Mythene looked over at him, “What is it?”

“Well, one of us would have to remove the arrow while someone else heals him right away. But then we still need someone to heal the arrow wound itself…”

Mythene furrowed her brow, looking down in thought for a moment.

“Maybe I could run to the Temple of the Moon and get Desana?” She suggested, before shaking her head, “No, no time…”

“Uh, well, maybe he could heal himself?” Jazax suggested, earning him a scowl from Mythene.

“He can barely move, how could he possibly---”

“I’ll do it,” Caserion said, leaning away from the table.

Mythene looked up to him in surprise, her eyes wide as he approached.

“A-An’da?” She blinked up at him, watching him roll up his sleeves.

“I am a Druid of the Branch,” Caserion said firmly, “My own feelings cannot interfere with my duties to the Cenarion Circle.”

“An’da…” Mythene whispered, a small smile forming on her lips.

Caserion’s expression softened slightly as he knelt down on Zami’s other side.

“What shall I do?” Caserion asked, looking between Mythene and Jazax.

“You’re probably the most experienced healer of the three of us, right?” Jazax looked over at him, “You’d be the best at removing the arrow safely, then.”

“Understood,” Caserion nodded.

“I’ll heal that once you’re done,” Jazax nodded, glancing at Mythene, “Which leaves you to take care of…”

“His heart,” Mythene nodded back.

Zami would’ve snorted if he were able. Leave it to Jazax to tease him, even now.

“A’right, everybody in position?” Jazax looked between the group of healers.

Six hands pressed down against his chest and Zami winced from the contact. He couldn’t feel much else. The rest of his body was numb, heavy dead weight. Emphasis on dead.

“Whenever you’re ready, daddy-o,” Jazax nodded to Caserion.

Caserion nodded, and grasped a hold of the arrow. Zami hissed from the pain.

“Hang on, thero’shan,” Mythene whispered to him.

Caserion slowly began to tug the shaft of the arrow, and Zami groaned in pain. Which, of course, led to a coughing fit. With each cough, more blood leaked out. The six hands on his chest pressed down, holding him in place.

Caserion pulled at the arrow, a bit more decisively this time. The wound squelched as the arrow slid out, blood frothing at the wound. Once the arrow was free and clear, Jazax pressed down his hands quickly. The wound shrank as he muttered a prayer to the Light under his breath, but Zami felt a deeper, lower pain rise. Like Zeni was hugging its thorns into his heart.

Once his prayer was done, Jazax hurriedly moved his hands out of the way. Then it was Mythene’s turn to lean forward. She pressed down against Zami’s chest, scowling at it in determination.

“Please, please, please…” She whispered as she furrowed her brow, her hands beginning to glow.

Zami shut his eye from the pain, clenching his jaw. He was feeling too dizzy to keep his eye open, anyway. As the pain in his chest only grew, Zami faintly heard the sound of laughter. A shiver of fear went down his spine, which was quickly replaced by angry determination. 

Despite the stabbing pain of movement, his hand rose up to grasp at his chest. His hand slammed over Mythene’s, pushing her deeper. The pain from the forceful contact was unspeakable, but it seemed to do the trick, because then the pain began to fade.

When it was finally reduced from agonizing to merely painful, he dared to open his eye. He looked for Mythene’s eyes, but they were locked on his chest. He glanced down as well, to see her healing. And, to his surprise, her hand wasn’t the only one that was glowing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So can we take Caserion off the hate list, guys?


	124. Make Peace

Zami slept for three days after that. They’d laid him on the floor of Mythene’s chambers, so that he wouldn’t be underfoot in the kitchen. She had refused to leave his side the entire time, ever vigilant and ready to heal him as needed. As she sat on the floor beside where he was lain, her fingers eternally wringing, she stared down at him and she thought.

She thought about how peaceful he looked. Like the grave. If not for the sound of him breathing softly, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest, she might’ve panicked. Worried that their healing efforts hadn’t worked. That he’d still been lost. She wasn’t sure she could’ve handled that very well.

She also thought about Daras occasionally, and how to best flay him. But thoughts of Desana always gave her pause. She didn’t deserve to suffer simply because her brother was an insufferable fool. After all, she knew better than any what the loss of a brother felt like.

And so then her thoughts would turn to Enerion. 

His eyes, especially. The way they’d looked on that day. On the day he’d died. The day she’d killed him. Her head lowered as she remembered. The sound of him squealing and screeching in pain would haunt her to the grave. He was gone, lost to feral madness. There was nothing of her dear little brother when she struck the final blow. But then, in that last moment, as he cried out as his life faded… he was there. In his eyes. She saw it. And he saw her. He knew her.

Covering her face with her hands, Mythene rubbed away the sadness, shoving it deeper under her skin. Then she lowered her hands and looked down at Zami. He was sleeping peacefully. She hoped he was having a good dream. He really deserved one. It seemed like he could never catch a break. Ever since she’d become his teacher, they had stumbled into trouble after trouble. The Emerald Coven, those other trolls in Stranglethorn, now this…

Smiling softly, she was glad he got the chance to rest these last few days. Better circumstances would’ve been appreciated, but it was what it was. Leaning over towards him, Mythene tucked a loose hair behind his ear. Her hand trailed down along his dreadlocks curiously. She’d always wondered what they felt like. She paused as her hand hit something and she glanced down, seeing her fingers caught on the little wooden trinket---a fetish, he’d called it.

She peered down, taking it in her fingers, and examined the Zandali characters engraved into the surface. Zami had told her what it said once before. Mercy. She perked an eyebrow as she thought about it. Mercy? He didn’t need to pray he might become merciful. He was just, and justice was not always merciful when it need not be. She scoffed lightly and set the fetish down gently. Maybe, she thought, it wasn’t even a prayer to obtain mercy. But rather to receive it.

Suddenly, Zami shifted below her and Mythene leaned back slightly, hoping she hadn’t woken him. Sighing gently in relief when he didn’t wake, she brought her hand down to his bare chest, tracing gently over the scar that had formed over his heart. It would be a permanent reminder of Daras’ treachery, she thought bitterly. And a reminder of how she felt about the idea of Zami dying.

Removing her hand, Mythene reached down and picked up the blanket, which had fallen away as he shifted in his sleep. Pulling it back up, she gently covered him with it and sat back.

“Sleep well, Zami,” She whispered, leaning forward and planting a soft kiss on his cheek.

Mythene sat with him for a few minutes longer, before the growls of her stomach became intolerable. Almost to the point that she feared they might wake him. She supposed she was rather hungry, being that she hadn’t left his side once in the last three days. Glancing at him warily, she concluded that she could take a moment to eat something quickly. Then she would be right back by his side. She stood up silently, brushing a little of the dust from her clothes, and went to the door.

“I will be right back,” She said softly as she opened the door.

Mythene made her way to the kitchen, pausing in the archway. Jazax was working on some device at his little engineering table, brow furrowed. It appeared he was working on some kind of tiny, headless robotic goblin. Mythene perked an eyebrow but moved past him, to the pantry cupboard. As she began to look around for some dried snack, Jazax cleared his throat. Curiously, she glanced over at him.

“Uhh, how is he?” He asked quietly, pushing up his goggles.

“He’s still sleeping,” Mythene answered, turning back to the cupboard, “But he seems to be completely healed.”

“Good, good…” Jazax nodded, lightly rapping his tools against the table.

“Um, I suppose I should thank you,” Mythene mumbled, glancing briefly over her shoulder.

“Huh? For what?” Jazax perked an eyebrow.

“For helping to heal him,” Mythene said as she examined a sealed pack of jerky, wondering how old it was.

“Oh, yeah, y’know,” Jazax shrugged, beginning to screw in a bolt at the robot’s neck, “If I can help, I’m gonna, y’know? I ain’t just gonna let my buddy die… not like last time.”

Mythene nodded back wordlessly, deciding against risking the jerky. As she reached for a small pouch of fruit, she glanced at Jazax again.

“Is that why you became a priest?” She asked quietly, “To heal?”

“Not exactly,” He shrugged, pausing to connect a pair of wires, “It’s, uh, kinda complicated.”

“Ah… Well, that’s why I wanted to be a priestess,” Mythene mumbled, turning back to the cupboard.

“Oh yeah?” Jazax perked an eyebrow, “Why don’tcha become one, then?”

“I’m a druid,” Mythene frowned.

“So?” Jazax shrugged again, “I mean, you’d be great for it. You’d prolly do a heck of a better job at all the priestly stuff than I can.”

“Most likely,” Mythene agreed, smirking slightly as Jazax scowled flatly at her.

“Hey, you ain’t supposed to agree with me there,” He sniffed, feigning offense.

“Well, you shouldn’t admit it freely, then,” She quipped back, settling on taking a pack of crackers from the cupboard.

“Lesson learned,” Jazax chuckled, “Remind me never to share any secrets with you, eh?”

Mythene shook her head in amusement, taking the crackers and heading back to her chambers. After she stepped inside, she shut the door and approached Zami’s side.

“I’m back, thero’shan,” She said quietly, sitting down beside him.

As she began to nibble on the crackers, her gaze moved out the open window, towards the full moon. She smiled softly, before looking back at Zami. And then she began to think again.


	125. Ransom

Zami smiled, leaning back as a cool breeze swept off the sea. Then he leaned forward again, plunging his hand into the metal bucket of wriggling nightcrawlers. He pulled out one unlucky black worm and peered at it.

“Heh, look at you. You a fat one, eh?” He smirked, stabbing a hook through the worm’s belly, “Ya gonna catch me somethin’ good, mon.”

Zami sat back against the sand, casting his fishing line ahead to the blue water. Then he sighed contentedly, settling in for the wait. He glanced aside when he heard a skittering sound, but it was just a harmless surf crawler emerging from the water. Dismissing the crawler, he looked back to his fishing bobber.

The sun was shining down warmly across the red sands of Durotar that day. Not too hot and not too dry, thanks to the closeness of the shore. It really could be pleasant in Durotar when the spring was in full swing. Once summer rolled around, of course, one was liable to melt into the parched sands. But in spring, the chill of winter still lingered deep in the soil and kept the ground cool to the touch.

“What’cha doing, Zami? Fishin’ again?”

Zami looked over as someone settled in the sand beside him. Recognizing them at once, he smiled. But then he wrinkled his nose as the wind brought the scent of alcohol.

“What’cha doing, Zuri? Drinkin’ again?” He asked back.

“Hey, we all got our thing we do,” Zuri shrugged, “You fish. Zeni jokes around. Zuka gets married. I drink.”

“Dat drinkin’ is gonna kill you one day, mon,” Zami sighed, looking back at his fishing bobber.

“If not dat, den somethin’ else will,” Zuri shrugged again, “Why worry bout it? We all gonna die one day.”

“No need to kill ya self early,” Zami grumbled.

He glanced back at Zuri and froze, seeing the troll beside him now a rotted skeleton.

“It never comes early, mon,” Zuri said quietly, his jaw clacking with each word, “We all die when we s’posta.”

Zami furrowed his brow, tightening his grip on his fishing rod as he stared at the skeleton beside him.

“Except you, I mean,” Zuri shrugged once more, “Seems like you escape it every time.”

Zami frowned, as the warm sun began to wane cold. He went to speak when he heard a crackling sound. Looking ahead, he saw that the ocean had frozen, his bobber stuck on the surface.

And then he heard footsteps approach behind him.

Hesitantly, Zami looked up over his shoulder. His grip on the fishing rod slackened at what he saw. A second skeletal troll, this one female. Maybe it was her wisps of pink hair or the way she stood, but he recognized her immediately.

“What’re ye starin’ at, troll?” The woman scoffed, in a voice unmistakable to his ears.

“Z-Zin’aka?” Zami mumbled, furrowing his brow once more.

“Cap’n Zin’aka,” Zin’aka corrected, crossing her arms.

“How can you be a cap’n if ya don’t got a boat no more?” Zuri shrugged over at her.

“I’m gonna get me another one,” Zin’aka scoffed, turning her head away.

It fell off her shoulders and landed in the sand with a soft thud, making Zami wince.

“Wh-Why’re you here?” He managed to ask, scrambling to his feet.

“We gotta remind you of ya promise,” Zuri shrugged.

“Can’t have ya go betrayin’ him too,” Zin’aka quipped.

Zami took a step back, about to say something, but suddenly a hand clasped onto his shoulder. Zami frowned, a bad feeling beginning to form in his stomach. But he hesitantly looked back anyway. Zoji’s empty eye sockets stared back.

“You promised another in your place,” Zoji murmured in Zandali, “You have to make good on that promise.”

“I-I will,” Zami nodded, leaning away from Zoji’s grasp.

His hand popped off the wrist, but remained clutched onto Zami’s shoulder tightly.

“Don’t be thinkin’ ya can cheat Bwonsamdi, mon,” Zin’aka’s head scoffed from the ground, as her body groped about the sand blindly.

“Nobody steals from him,” Zoji added quietly, his hand clutching Zami tighter.

Zami winced and reached up, trying to pry the skeletal hand from his shoulder as the grip started to become painful.

“I ain’t stealin’ from nobody,” Zami hissed, wrenching the hand free and throwing it into the cold sand.

“You owe him ya life,” Zuri said as he looked up from where he still sat, “Remember?”

Zami went to respond but suddenly his side began to burn with a searing hot pain. Unable to help himself, he fell down to knees, quickly looking down at his side. It was a festering wound, seeping blood down his leg and into the sand. Just like the one before.

“I remember!” Zami said through gritted teeth, “I’m gonna pay him back! I swear it!”

“Words don’t mean much,” Zuri shrugged, his teeth clacking as his jaw flapped, “Maybe he gotta take somethin’ from ya. So ya don’t be forgettin’ anymore.”

Zuri rose up to his feet, looming over where Zami was crouched. Zin’aka picked up her head, setting it back onto her shoulders with a sickly snap, as Zoji clicked his hand back into place on his bony wrist. The three of them then moved to stand around Zami in a circle. Zami tried to stand, but the wound at his side was immobilizing.

He struggled as Zuri grabbed his arms, binding them behind his back. But he couldn’t slip loose from his hold.

“What’re you gonna do to me?” Zami asked warily.

He didn’t expect an answer, and he didn’t receive one. Instead, Zin’aka just reached forward. She traced her fingers across his cheek, her bony fingertips stabbing uncomfortably into his flesh. Almost enviously. Then she suddenly reached up, grabbing his eyepatch. With a quick flick of her wrist, she snapped the band, pulling his eyepatch away. Zami slowly opened his right eye, blinking in discomfort at the sudden light.

It didn’t last long, though. Because then it was Zoji’s turn to reach forward. His hand began to move for Zami’s eye. In a sudden burst of panic, Zami tried to lean away. But Zuri held him in place. Zami tried to shut his eye, but he wasn’t quick enough.

Zoji’s bony finger slipped past his flesh, into his eye socket, and Zami gritted his teeth. He thrashed and struggled, but Zuri held him tight with Zin’aka’s help. Meanwhile, Zoji’s fingers sunk deeper and deeper, until suddenly….

Pop.

Zami cried out in pain, sitting up quickly. A pair of cool hands gently pressed on his shoulders, trying to push him back down. Zami grabbed the hands tightly, throwing them aside, before opening his eyes. Mythene was staring back at him, her expression concerned. He just frowned at her, his hand immediately moved up to his eyepatch. His entire body tensed upon realizing it was wet.


	126. Full Disclosure

Mythene was looking out the window, watching the last light of the Pale Lady fade over the horizon. The sun would rise soon, and the day would begin anew. She glanced over at Zami, who still slept soundly beside her, and smiled softly. She was ready for another quiet day of watching over him.

Suddenly, something changed.

His brow furrowed, and he began to shift in his sleep. Mythene frowned, seeing the pained expression that formed on his face, and crouched down beside him. She gently set her cool hand against his forehead, which burned to the touch. She frowned again when she realized he was sweating like the midst of a fever.

“Thero’shan?” She whispered, hearing him begin to breathe erratically.

Zami mumbled back, too quiet to hear, and began to stir more violently.

“Zami?” She whispered again, moving her hand down to gently caress his cheek.

He stopped moving, and she smiled, hoping she’d quelled his worries with her presence.

But then he began to thrash wildly, though he appeared to still be in a deep sleep. She frowned again and brought her hands to his shoulders.

“Zami, wake up!” She called to him, deciding it would be best to wake him from whatever malevolent dream he might be having before he ended up hurting himself.

To her surprise, he suddenly brought his hands up over hers. He gripped her hands painfully tight, before violently throwing her away. She fell backwards to the ground, looking up at him in shock. He quickly sat up, opening his eye. He gave her a quick panicked look before his other hand scrabbled to his eyepatch. He suddenly tensed, flinching like he’d just been burned.

“Thero’shan?” Mythene blinked, sitting herself back up, “What’s wrong? What do you need?”

“Oh no…” Zami mumbled to himself in Orcish, hastily ripping off his eyepatch.

His eye was… gone.

“I-Impossible!” Mythene gasped, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth, “I’ve been with you this entire time. How could this happen?!”

Zami didn’t answer. Instead, he reached up, wiping away the blood that began to drip down his cheek with the back of his hand. Mythene blinked away her surprise before hurriedly crawling over beside him. She reached out towards his eye but he batted her hand away lightly.

“Thero’shan,” Mythene furrowed her brow, “What’s going on? You have to speak to me.”

“I can’t believe dis…” Zami muttered, tenderly feeling at the empty socket with his own hand, “He really took it…”

Mythene cocked her head to the side in confusion.

“He..? He who?”

“Bwonsamdi,” Zami grunted, lowering his now-bloody hand, “Da loa of da dead.”

“Loa? Isn’t that one of your troll gods?” Mythene asked, and Zami nodded, “What would your god of death want with you?”

Zami clenched his jaw, glancing aside. Mythene slowly narrowed her eyes, realizing he was hiding something from her.

“It don’t matter,” He responded elusively, clearing his throat, “I just gotta---”

“Zami,” Mythene scowled, crossing her arms tightly across her chest, “Talk to me.”

Zami looked back at her quickly, opening his mouth to say something. But after a minute he just sighed quietly, lowering his head slightly.

“Uhm, well...” He began uncomfortably, “Da truth is… I, er….”

“You what?” Mythene asked, still squinting at him suspiciously, “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Zami said defensively, quickly looking back at her, “At least, not on purpose...”

“What did you do?” Mythene asked again, pushing his shoulders back down to the floor.

Zami blinked up at her for a minute as she loomed over him. His expression shifted slightly a few times. First surprise, then embarrassment, then dread, then defeat.

“I, uh…” He began again, voice quieter, “I… died.”

Mythene perked an eyebrow, one hand moving up towards his eye. Her gaze flickered over towards the wound as she began to examine it.

“Back in Stranglethorn,” Zami continued, “With dat poison…”

Mythene paused, glancing back at his face in surprise. She’d always wondered how he seemed to instantly heal from that injury, but had ultimately presumed it was part of the trolls’ regenerative abilities.

“But you’re still here,” She said slowly, gaze drifting back to the wound.

“Cause I made a deal,” Zami explained as her fingers began to tentatively feel the wound, “With Bwonsamdi.”

“A deal?” Mythene glanced at him briefly, “What sort of deal?”

“Uhh, a replacement,” Zami mumbled.

“Replacement? What do you mean?” She asked, determining the nature of the wound wasn’t from the severed eye itself but scratches along the lining of the socket.

It was almost as if his eye had been physically plucked out.

“Uhh, y’know… somebody else… in my place,” He said as he shrugged slightly.

When he did, Mythene lost her grip on his other shoulder. She managed to catch herself on the floor beside them just before her body crashed into his, but that didn’t stop her from accidentally jamming her finger into his eye socket.

“Sorry,” She whispered quickly as he winced in pain, “Stop moving for a second and let me heal the wound.”

“You can’t replace my eye,” Zami snorted, turning his head aside slightly.

“No, but I can make sure you don’t get an infection,” She snapped, “Now stop moving.”

She impatiently grabbed his tusk, which had come dangerously close to hitting her scarred cheek, and used it to tug his head back to facing forward. Zami stared up her, apparently surprised by the gesture, but at least he remained still. Gently, she set her hand over his eye socket and closed her own eyes. After exhaling deeply, she opened her eyes again and removed her hand. 

“Does it feel better now?” She asked, leaning down to double check that the scratches were gone.

When Zami didn’t respond, she glanced over towards his face to see him staring at her breathlessly. It only made her realize just how close they actually were. She quickly leaned away as she began to blush, trying to remind herself such a reaction was entirely unprofessional. In response, Zami cleared his throat, beginning to blush as well.

“Y-Yeah,” He finally answered, “Thanks.”

“Of course,” She nodded quickly, glancing aside.

Then she remembered what they were previously discussing and her eyebrows shot up. She quickly turned back to face Zami, to ask who he had chosen as his replacement in death. But he had been in the midst of sitting up at the same time. And, as a result, their faces crashed right into one another.

Especially their lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	127. Emotion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact! This chapter made my mom cry!

Zami only wanted to sit up. That was all he’d wanted to do.

But, of course, that wasn’t all that happened.

As he had sat up, Mythene had suddenly turned back towards him. The result was their faces smushing right into each other. In that first split second, his main concern was whether or not he’d scratched her with his tusks. Again. After all, a sudden collision like that could’ve left them both one-eyed. But once he realized that, luckily, his tusks hadn’t even made contact with her, his mind then registered that his lips had.

And still were.

Zami and Mythene stared back into each other’s eyes, quite directly. It was kind of hard to avoid meeting someone’s gaze when they were so close that your lips were touching, after all. It felt like it took Zami’s brain a whole minute to buffer before he realized exactly what was happening. It seemed to be the same for Mythene, as both of them expressed their realization at once.

But neither panicked or pulled away, almost as if they were momentarily urging the other to move first. Like a game of chicken to see who would have to do something about it first. Ultimately, Zami decided to take control of the situation lest it get out of hand, and he slowly leaned back on his elbows. Mythene blinked a few times, as though a spell over her had been broken, and her hand trailed up to her lips.

She stared down at Zami and maybe it was the look in her eyes, or just the situation itself, but he felt his face begin to flush. His brain quickly began to go into panic mode, trying to think of something to say. Anything to break the uncomfortable silence. But he couldn’t think of anything, so he just stared back up at her, blushing and wordless.

Mythene lowered her hand away from her mouth and parted her lips slightly, going to say something. But then she seemed to reconsider. Instead, she leaned forward. 

Zami quickly rose his eyebrows in surprise, but didn’t resist as Mythene replaced her lips against his. It was a gentle, uncertain gesture. Like she was testing the waters. And when he didn’t kiss her back, still being too shocked by the situation to do so, she pulled away.

She then silently rose up to her feet, turning towards the door. Zami suddenly felt panicked again, like he’d done something wrong, and quickly sat back up. Knowing only that he didn’t want her to leave like that, his hand reached out and caught hers. She paused, looking back at him over her shoulder. He tried again to think of something to say, but instead just gaped at her helplessly like a fish. She perked an eyebrow and gently slid her hand free, moving towards the door.

Zami had never had much of a way with words. It just wasn’t one of the things he was good at in his life. And in this moment, he didn’t think he could’ve said anything to fix it even if he thought of the perfect words. So he resorted back to what he was good at.

Action.

Mythene had only just opened the door, when Zami leaned his forearm flat against it. It promptly shut under the force of his weight, and she looked up at him with annoyance. Zami only stared back down at her in silence, trying not to draw parallels to the situation they’d been in just like this the other day. Only, that time their positions had been reversed. It had been her hand on the door. Maybe he had managed to escape back then, but he had no intentions of letting the same thing happen again.

“Thero’shan, let go of the door,” Mythene ordered, “This instant.”

Her expression was cold and flat. Emotionless. Guarded. Zami furrowed his brow, keeping his hand firmly in place. He wouldn’t make the same mistake she had. Instead, he leaned down so their gazes were level, staring into her eyes. He was searching for something deeper, something beyond her walls.

“Thero’shan…” Mythene repeated, her voice shrinking to an uneven whisper, “Let me go…”

Zami hesitated a moment, almost giving in to her request. But then he saw it. The fear, hidden deep inside, past her walls and restraints. And so he steeled his own nerves and instead leaned forward slowly, softly pressing his forehead against hers. Mythene blinked at him in surprise, going to say something else, but fell silent as she felt him wrap his arms around her. He pulled her into a firm yet gentle embrace, holding her close. He felt her body stiffen as he held it against his, and one of his hands released her, offering her an out if she so chose. But she didn’t move, remaining frozen like a statue. 

Zami took her unwillingness to leave as a willingness to stay, and held her closer with the arm that was still around her back. His free hand moved up to gently run through her silver hair, pausing to tuck a strand of it behind her ear. It was just as silky as he had always expected it to be, he noted with a smile.

They remained like that for several minutes, neither speaking. Just when Zami finally went to fully release her and move away, he felt Mythene’s arms both suddenly squeeze around him, keeping him locked to her. She held on tightly, like she was afraid he might get swept away the second she let go. He glanced down at her face, seeing her deep purple blush as she looked back. She quickly moved her head forward out of embarrassment, setting her forehead against his chest in order to break the eye contact.

And then something he didn’t expect happened.

She began to cry. Zami frowned, feeling her body shudder with every sob, and held her tighter. The firmer that he held onto her, the more she cried. Unsure what to do, he began to softly run his hand through her hair again. She still cried, but her tears began to dry one by one as he repeated the gesture. But then, moments later, she began her tears anew. Zami frowned again and silently let her do so, wondering to himself how long it had been since someone simply held her. He had a nagging feeling that Caserion wasn’t the hugging type.

And so Mythene continued to cry, her centuries of buried emotions surging forth all at once. And Zami just held her patiently, weathering the storm right alongside her.

And never once did he let her go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ❤️


	128. The Refugee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *finds a way to shove my love of Hearthstone into the story*

Syrise perked a long blonde brow, gloved fingers tapping the tops of her cards. Across the table from her, Khail had a very smug smile. She hated that old man’s smile. It meant she was going to lose another game.

“We cannot wait forever, Miss Duskstrider,” He quipped nonchalantly, “You will have to play a card sooner or later.”

“I’m thinking!” Syrise spat back, scowling at her cards.

She glanced over at her small pool of glowing mana gems. She had six to use, but both of the minions in her hand cost four. She did have a spell that could injure all enemy minions costing only two, but Khail’s side of the board was clear. He seemed to prefer a direct attack method most of the time. She’d always found direct attacks too risky, preferring to hide herself behind a wall of dragons. Though, of course, getting them to stay on the board was the tricky part in this game.

“Do you intend to skip your turn?” Khail asked in amusement.

“Nope, I’m not dead yet,” Syrise mumbled, deciding to just summon her one dragon with rush.

It wouldn’t be able to attack yet, but at least it would give him another target to consider. Khail chuckled, watching as a miniature version of the dragon appeared over the card once she set it down on the board. It gave a tiny roar, which surely would’ve been menacing to his minions if he had any.

“My turn?” Khail perked an eyebrow.

Syrise grumbled and waved a hand at him to proceed. Khail drew a card, still smiling, and immediately set it on the board.

“I will activate this spell for two temporary additional mana stones,” He said coolly as two glittering mana stones appeared next to his primary pool.

“How much does that one cost to use?” Syrise asked, eyeing his mana stones.

“Nothing,” He chuckled, reaching for another card in his hand, “Now, I shall use seven of my mana stones to summon this Ancient. And because I’ve previously completed my quest, both abilities are activated. So my Ancient’s attack and health both become ten, and it also gains taunt. I will then use my last two mana to play this card and summon two dyrads with lifesteal---”

“Okay, I quit,” Syrise huffed, throwing her cards down, “You win again, big guy.”

Khail chuckled as the creatures on the board disappeared in a small puff of sparkles.

“Remind me, that makes how many wins?” Khail asked innocently.

“Ugh, seven,” Syrise grumbled, sinking down in her chair and crossing her arms, “But I did win the first game!”

“That you did,” Khail nodded as he began to shuffle his deck, “Shall we play once more?”

“I guess so,” Syrise sighed, sitting up and snatching up her deck, “There’s nothing else to do around here, after all.”

“Hmm, have you tried introducing yourself to some of the other druids?” He asked, looking around the inn, “I’m sure you could find someone willing to play a round with you.”

“Hard pass,” Syrise scoffed, shuffling her deck roughly, “They’d all probably accuse me of cheating or something.”

“Hm? Why do you say that?” Khail asked, cocking his large head to the side.

“Because I’m a sin’dorei,” Syrise shrugged, setting her deck down beside the board.

Khail just perked a thick eyebrow curiously, so she continued.

“You know, the kaldorei all think I’m an abomination,” She shrugged, “And the Gilneans are suspicious of everybody by default.”

“What of my people?” Khail suggested, glancing back across the Horde side of the inn, “Or the trolls?”

“All the trolls want to do is drink,” She grumbled, “And, no offense, but most tauren are a little bit too… traditional for me.”

“Hmm,” Khail grunted curiously, “It sounds like you are missing the companionship of your own kind.”

“Oh, no no,” Syrise quickly shook her head, “You know how the kaldorei hate me? Well, double it for other sin’dorei.”

Khail perked an eyebrow and Syrise simply shrugged, looking aside.

“Let’s just say there aren’t a lot of former Farstriders walking around for a reason,” She mumbled under her breath, before leaning forward on the edge of the table, “Anyway! Ready for the next match, big guy? I’ve got a good feeling about this one!”

Khail hummed, seeing her clear transition away from the topic, and nodded. Syrise picked up her copper coin from the edge of the table and flipped it into the air.

“Call it,” She grunted towards Khail.

“Heads,” He said before looking past Syrise’s shoulder, “Hm?”

Syrise perked an eyebrow curiously, nearly missing her cue to catch the coin. She quickly slapped it against the back of her hand and peeked at it.

“Hah! Tails!” She beamed, “Finally! I get to go first!”

Just as she drew her card, Khail stood up, moving past the table.

“First I’m gonna play---huh? Wait, where are you going?” She asked quickly, turning around in her seat to see what he was so caught up with.

A group of injured night elves were entering the mouth of the inn. Some were wrapped in bangadges, others were laid on makeshift stretchers. Syrise perked an eyebrow, the other tables around her going quiet as everyone watched the new arrivals.

“What’s going on?” Syrise asked a tauren at the table closest to hers, “Who are these people?”

“Likely more refugees from Lor’danel,” The tauren answered, “Many people have been displaced by the destruction in Darkshore, and survivors often come to the Circle for healing of more serious injuries.”

Syrise nodded in thanks, looking back towards the group. She looked at the haggard faces of the night elves and couldn’t help feeling a bit of sympathy for them, despite the tensions between their peoples. Some things, tragedies especially, were beyond race. That was probably why druids from all four corners of the inn came forward, asking how they could help.

As Syrise looked between the survivors, suddenly she caught sight of something and her eyes widened. She stood up so quickly that her chair fell backwards against the floor.

“Mythene?” She gasped, hurrying over towards the fringes of the growing crowd.

She tried to push her way forward, but couldn’t cut a path to the front. Looking around quickly, she hurried over to a table and leapt on top of it.

“Mythene!” She called over the rising din, waving her arms, “Mythene Moonshadow!”

Mythene flinched, no doubt having heard someone calling her name, and began to look about for the source of the voice.

“Mythe---”

Syrise was cut off as something grabbed her leg, pulling her down from the table in one swift gesture. She landed on her stomach on the floor and quickly turned her head to scowl up. Dargon, the innkeeper, was scowling back at her.

“Do not stand on my tables,” He said in Orcish, his voice quiet yet somehow still able to clearly be heard through the noise.

“But I---”

Dargon narrowed his eyes, leaning down towards her.

“Do not stand on my tables,” He repeated coldly, his tone threatening.

Syrise frowned and nodded, holding in her exasperated sigh. Dargon nodded back and walked off to his usual spot behind the counter. Syrise rolled her green eyes and quickly stood up, brushing the dust from her clothes. She then looked up towards the crowd, gasping as she saw the group beginning to move out of the inn.

“Mythene!” She called after the group, but received no response.

Syrise had no idea what was going on. Why was Mythene injured? And why was she alone? Where were Zami and Jazzy? Were they alright? Were they safe? Knowing she wouldn’t get her answers by just standing around, she hurried to follow the crowd.


	129. Who Is Ysera?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long to get out! Lots of stuff has been happening. My sister-in-law had a heart attack and a collapsed lung, my mother was hospitalized for a pinched spinal nerve, my brother got fired from his job, and I’ve had to juggle all that with holiday responsibilities and babysitting my six nieces and nephews. So chapters might be a little slow for a bit! Sorry!

Zami struggled not to close his empty eye socket. It was hard to deny the instinct. Having a gaping hole in his face felt weird, especially when the breeze caught it. Regardless, he kept his eye open as Malfurion peered down curiously.

“Interesting,” The night elf mumbled, mostly to himself, “It just disappeared? Just like that?”

“More or less,” Zami shrugged lightly.

“I was by his side the entire time,” Mythene added, “No one touched his eye. It was simply missing when he awoke.”

“But you say you dreamt of the removal?” Malfurion perked an eyebrow, leaning away to stroke his beard, “Most curious…”

“I don’t think it’s such a big deal,” Zami shrugged again, “The Loa can do all sorts of things. Taking my eye in a dream… is it that weird?”

“Hmm, possibly,” Malfurion nodded, continuing to stroke his beard, “What did you name this being who stole it again?”

“Bwonsamdi, Loa of the Grave.”

“I see. And this is the one you have spoken to in dreams before?”

“No, no,” Zami quickly shook his head, “That’s Gonk, Loa of the Hunt.”

“Ah, right, right,” Malfurion nodded again, looking slightly perplexed.

The poor guy was probably doing his best to understand the nature of the Loa, and Zami was being as patient as he could. It was a greater effort than most Night Elves would bother, after all.

“Oh, who cares for such names,” Tyrande suddenly spoke up, sounding rather annoyed, “They are all just Wild Gods the same.”

Zami furrowed his brow, looking over to her. He went to say something, but Mythene spoke first.

“Shan’do, I have been thinking something for a while,” She began, setting a slender hand on her own chin, “Do you think that eye could be the work of Ysera somehow?”

“Who?” Zami interjected quickly.

“Ah, surely it must,” Malfurion nodded, “She is the guardian of the Emerald Dream, after all.”

“Wait, who?” Zami asked again, looking between the two, “Who’s Ysera?”

Malfurion perked an eyebrow at him curiously, before turning towards Mythene.

“I wonder…” He began, “Archdruid Moonshadow, has he ever been to the Emerald Dream?”

“Well, his eye could see into it,” Mythene furrowed her brow, “I sort of assumed it was like Dreaming while awake.”

“Hmm, I don’t think it worked so completely,” Malfurion said with a quick shake of his head, “I wonder if perhaps what he needs is a stronger connection to the Dream.”

Mythene blinked in surprise, as if caught off guard by the suggestion. Zami perked an eyebrow as he watched them. He still really only knew tidbits about the Emerald Dream. 

Mythene had finally given him a bit of an explanation, but the details were still foggy. She said it was basically another world where everything was saturated with the untainted essence of nature. Druids would often go there to study, streamlining the process a lot quicker than he had. He still didn’t know where this other world was, or how one got there. Maybe it was like Draenor? Another world in the Great Dark Beyond? But one only druids could reach?

Honestly, he still had more questions than answers.

“What do you suggest, Shan’do?” Mythene asked cautiously, her tone sounding like she already knew the answer.

“I think he should Dream,” Malfurion said with a brief gesture in Zami’s direction.

Mythene bit her lip nervously, glancing aside for a moment.

“But, Shan’do,” She began quietly, “I don’t know if he’s ready.”

“You said he has already gained the abilities to shapeshift and heal? Even resurrect the dead?” Malfurion perked an eyebrow.

Mythene looked back at Malfurion, nodding.

“Then he is ready,” Malfurion nodded back.

“But what of his injuries?” Mythene asked, “Is he recovered enough?”

At this, Malfurion’s expression changed slightly. It was subtle, blink and you miss it. But it changed. Ever-so-slightly becoming more serious, more authoritative.

“I know you are concerned, Archdruid,” He began, his tone firm, “However, it is one of the duties of a teacher to have faith in their student. The greatest lessons often come through failure, and you do your students a disservice by denying them this.”

Mythene nodded her head, looking down.

“Yes, Shan’do,” She said quietly, “I understand.”

“Besides,” Malfurion added, his expression softening, “The process of sleeping is hardly taxing on the body. Dreaming is a trial of the mind and, to some extents, the soul.”

Mythene nodded again, looking slightly comforted by his words. Zami cocked his head to the side curiously, still not really following the conversation.

“Uhh, so…” He cleared his throat, “What exactly is Dreaming?”

“It’s rather literal,” Malfurion chuckled, “However, it is done with an intent. Think of it similarly to meditation.”

“Druids can project themselves to the Emerald Dream,” Mythene explained, “It’s sort of like a copy of their consciousness, the part of them that can interact with the essence of nature.”

“Ah, the essence of nature,” Malfurion repeated with a nostalgic chuckle, “It’s been quite some time since I’ve heard that particular phrase. And how is Caserion doing?”

“Quite well,” Mythene answered, “He seems to be seeking greater wisdom in his life of late.”

“Ah? Is that so?” Malfurion smiled, “It’s about time that he---”

“My love,” Tyrande interrupted impatiently, “Perhaps the two of you might catch up later? I believe you have more pressing matters to attend at the moment.”

She gave a nod of her head towards Zami.

“Ah, right you are,” Malfurion admitted sheepishly, “We should continue this discussion in Moonglade, as the troll is prepared to enter the Dream---”

“Wait, wait, wait! Hold up!”

All of them paused, looking down at the goblin beside them. He’d been previously sitting on one of the Temple of the Moon’s many benches, stewing in his own boredom. But now he was standing right beside them, looking wide-eyed and excited.

“Did you just say Moonglade?” Jazax perked an eyebrow.

“Of course,” Malfurion nodded, “It is often best for a druid to Dream within the Barrow Dens.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s great,” Jazax waved a hand flippantly, “But this is Moonglade, right?”

Malfurion perked an eyebrow but nodded again.

“Great! Then let’s go!” Jazax nodded back eagerly, “C’mon, people! Chop chop!”

Tyrande rolled her eyes, clearly biting her tongue.

“Well, I suppose we have no time to lose, Shan’do,” Mythene suggested, looking a bit embarrassed by Jazax’s antics.

Zami smiled slightly, knowing that feeling full well. He supposed that made it official. Mythene and Jazax were now friends.

“Very well, then,” Malfurion nodded, “I shall meet you there.”

He turned to Tyrande, pulling her aside to discuss something with her.

“Hey, where’s the old guy goin’?” Jazax asked, immediately getting his ear pulled by Mythene.

“Shush, you!” She hissed, her other hand moving to set gently on Zami’s shoulder.

Zami recognized the tingling feeling that began to overtake his body, recalling from when Khail did it back then. They were teleporting.

“Whoa, hey! What’re y--”

Before Jazax was able to even finish his sentence, they appeared in the midst of Moonglade’s forests. Zami smiled, recognizing the hazy purple sky. But then he looked over towards Nighthaven, and his smile dropped at once.

The village was in ruins.


End file.
